Bound
by Ansileran
Summary: After Celebrian's departure, Elrond is fading. The healers have given up on him. Can Melpomaen save his childhood's hero?  AU, probably OOC too, MM pairing. Don't like don't read !  The main plot hasn't started yet, for now, Melpomaen is still growing up...
1. A party from Mirkwood

_Hi everyone!_

_This is the first chapter of my very first fanfiction on LOTR. Please note that I'm by no means an expert on Tolkien's work (I have read the LOTR books some ten years ago, but not the appendice and no additional material so far) and most of my knowledge of his universe comes from internet researches. I hope this won't be too AU (though it will be of course, with MM pairing in it ^^) but if it is...  
><em>_  
><em>_I apologize for any mistreatment of the English language, I'm not a native speaker so it is a bit hard for me to write in English, but I'll do my best! If you find any mistake, feel free to tell me and I'll correct them as soon as I can._

_I am writing this story in response to a challenge posted on the Library of Moria : Bound by Dapper Scavenger (sorry I apparently can't post the link...__)._

_Enjoy!_

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><p><em>I re-posted the chapter. It has now be beta-ed by Phoenix Song (PH03N1X 50NG here on ffnet) who I must really thank for her wonderful work !<em>

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><p><em>0718/2012: Hopefully this will be the last version of the first chapter. As Massanie kindly pointed out, Elrond was acting totally out of character here and it deserved an explanation. I added a few paragraphs to try and make it more believable._

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><p><strong>A party from Mirkwood<strong>

It was a fine summer morning on the high road. The cloudless blue sky seemed to stretch on forever and morning dew clung to the needles of the great evergreens. Elrond sat high on his saddle, appraising his surroundings carefully. He had an uneasy feeling. At first, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary; nothing moved in the undergrowth and the forest was quiet. Too quiet. No bird could be heard praising the rising of Anor with their joyful song and no rodent was scurrying in the undergrowth. There was an unmistakable menace in the air.

The small contingent from Imladris stood in the middle of the road. They had received news from Mirkwood that a party of elves traveling to the havens would be coming this way and Thranduil had expressly requested that they be allowed to rest for a while in the hidden valley before passing onto the west. Apparently, the group was mainly constituted of families with young children who were seeking to escape the ever growing shadow in the east. They had dispatched a messenger ahead to announce their arrival and should have made camp on this precise spot the night before. The sun was now approaching its peak, however, and they had yet to see any sign of them.

"Do you think they were delayed, Elrond?" asked Glorfindel, his voice worried.

"Maybe..." The peredhel was still trying to pinpoint the cause of the nagging sensation, but it proved elusive and his irritation was growing. Not that he would let any of it show in front of his soldiers, but the seneschal had become a close friend over the centuries and could see right through his mask.

"What troubles you, meldir?"

"Something is wrong here. I can feel it."

"I have been uneasy myself for quite a while now. Do you think that we are in danger?"

"Nothing immediate, no..." Elrond reflected. "We will wait for them here until noon and, if there is still no sign of them by then, we will ride forth to meet them."

"Why not go now, if you don't mind me asking?"

"They are wood elves and might have taken shelter in the trees. We could ride right past their camp and never see them."

Noon came and went as the troop waited in silence, and the Mirkwood party never showed. On a sign from their lord, the warriors set out with a trot. By then they were all worried and on alert, for such a delay did not bode well. No messenger had been sent forth and the seasoned soldiers knew in their hearts that some ill must have befallen them. And they didn't have to go far to be proved right.

They had been ridding for a little over an hour when the foul smell assaulted them. The stench of rotten flesh mixed with blood and other bodily fluids reached their nostrils and with it came the dreadful knowledge: orcs. They drew their weapons and spread into formation, closing ranks around their lord, much to his annoyance. Moving forward as one, they soon heard voices to match. The fell voices of Morgoth's beasts marred the quiet of the forest. They urged their horses forward, pushing them to a canter, with the knowledge of what they would find heavy in their minds and deep rooted hatred in their hearts. They rounded a bend and suddenly were upon them.

The orcs had heard the cavalry and were scrambling to their feet, reaching for their weapons. The swift approach gave them no time to ready themselves though. The elves dove upon them with a wrath that would make even their master cower. Many tried to flee before them, but they weren't given that chance. It was finished as soon as it had begun.

It was only when the orcs all laid dead that they took time to assess the situation. The foul beasts had been camping in the middle of the road among the remnants of what had been a group of thirty or so Sylvans. Bodies littered the ground and torn limbs were scattered all around the place – ellon, elleth and elflings alike. Some had tried to defend themselves and had died clutching their weapons, but most of them weren't warriors and they had been outnumbered almost five to one. It had been a massacre. One of them had been impaled on a spike and roasted over the fire. A few had been raped, regardless of gender, and their naked bodies were still leaking semen. Everywhere they turned, they were met with unseeing eyes, faces twisted in pain and mouths opened in screams of mute horror.

The soldiers ghosted around the camp, hoping against all odds to find a shimmer of breath in the dreadfully mutilated remains, but knowing in their heart that it was a hopeless quest. Even surprised the orcs would have left none alive. If they had intended to take prisoners, they would have moved right away, regaining the darkness of pit holes they called home. They had stayed instead, too engrossed in their feast to be bothered even by the glaring sun above their heads.

The elf lord had seen enough bodies in his long life to know those had been dead for hours. Given that the bedrolls still laid open on the ground, the attack had to have happened some time during the night. Even if they had ridden ahead straight away, they would have come too late to save the Sylvans. Just like the last time. Always too late...

Images flashed before his eyes, memories superposing themselves to the present and mingling together until he couldn't discern one from another. The small group turned to a sea of corpses. Walls rose around him, grey stone replacing the green of the forest and the dying embers of the camp fire roared in a blazing inferno. The once beautiful city laid in ruins, it's arches and turrets crumbling under the heat. His mind though barely registered the destruction around him. He couldn't tear his eyes from the mutilated bodies littering the ground. Unblemished faces rose in sharp contrast from the blur of soiled garments and bleeding limbs, faces of elves he had known all his life, of friends, of fellow scribes, sparring partners... And in front of the blasted gates, kept upright by the pole that had been shoved up to his head in a mock welcoming posture, stood the lord of the city himself, the last of the Fëanorians. His long time confident.

Bile rose to his mouth. This was no battle. It was a slaughter. He who had walked the plains of Dagorlad looking for survivors suddenly felt once again like a green soldier in the aftermath of his first battle. Except that these were no soldiers, no trained warriors ready to sacrifice their lives to protect those they held dear. Innocents. Butchered for the amusement of mindless beasts. Sheltered in the sanctuary he had created all those years ago, it had been easy to forget that outside the peaceful valley, the Shadow continued to cause death and devastation.

It was too much. Elrond dismounted and almost ran for the trees, all thoughts of dignity forgotten as he couldn't bear the horrific sight any longer. He knew he was acting like a craven but if he stayed there a minute longer he would faint, and so he fled the carnage, leaving Glorfindel in command of their troops. As it was, he didn't make it far into the forest before he had to stop. He collapsed onto his knees and heaved violently. Even when his stomach had emptied he remained prone, his head resting against the trunk of an aged oak. Tears fell unnoticed down his cheeks. He felt so old and weary of the cruelty of the world that in this moment he wanted nothing more than to take the road west himself and sail for Valinor. But his task in Middle Earth wasn't completed and so he had to find the strength to go on.

He took a few moments to steady himself before pushing himself up. His warriors were tending to the remains of the wood elves and he had a duty to perform. He was about to return to the road when a rustle to his left caught his attention. He peered cautiously at the thick bush and was met with two large blue eyes staring right back at him through the branches. He stayed frozen for a moment before dropping on his heels. The frightened gaze followed his every move.

"Hello there, little one" he said in his best reassuring voice. "What are you doing here?"

Only silence met him.

"Were you hiding in there, penneth? It's alright, you can come out now. You are safe."

The eyes blinked and suddenly the child bolted out of the bush and flung himself into his arms. The momentum propelled him backward and he fell heavily on his back with a cry of surprise. Small hands clutched desperately at his tunic. The little one followed him to the ground and curled against his chest, sobbing desperately. Once he recovered from the shock, Elrond enfolded him into his embrace and held him close.

"I have you, penneth, you are safe now. Hush, don't be afraid, it will be alright."

This was how Glorfindel found him a few moments later. He had heard the shout and came running at top speed, weapon ready, thinking his lord might be in danger. The sight that greeted him froze him in his tracks. The wise and dignified lord of Imladris was lying on the ground, hair mussed and strewn with fallen leaves, and holding a small shivering bundle on top of him. Gray eyes met his green ones in silent acknowledgement. Seeing no immediate danger, the Balrog Slayer sheathed his sword and crouched beside him.

"En… What exactly happened here?" he asked in an uncertain voice.

The child was startled from hearing a voice so close to him. He obviously hadn't noticed the other's approach. Shimmering eyes grew wide in wonder as he beheld the radiance of the reborn hero. His mouth opened in a perfect "o" and he reached for the golden strands. Glorfindel chuckled at the reaction. He had had that effect on so many elflings since his return!

"So, little one, you like my hair, hum? How about you come into my arms so that Elrond can get up?"

He opened his arms in welcome as Elrond dropped his and made to get the child off of his friend, but the elfling withdrew as soon as he noticed his intent. He whimpered and grabbed the peredhel's tunic once more, his tiny little fist so tight that the knuckles turned white.

"I think he doesn't like your idea, my friend. How about you give us some space so that he may calm down? I'm sure I can manage on my own."

It took a while, but the child finally settled down. Elrond held him with one hand while he pushed himself up. He sat there for a long time, singing softly, until the little one fell asleep at last.

"He must have been exhausted." Glorfindel whispered. "Do you think he was one of them?"

"Probably. He must have escaped in the confusion. Poor child."

"What are you going to do with him? Should we send him back to Mirkwood?"

"I'll take him with me for now. We need to know more before we can decide what's best for him. We don't know if he has any family left there. I'll need to inform Thranduil of what happened anyway, so I can ask at the same time. How are things going on the road?"

"We burnt the orc carcasses and the soldiers have started to construct litters so that we may carry the remnants back and give our friends a proper funeral."

"Do you think you can manage without me? I would like to get him home as soon as possible."

"Aye, that would be best. We can't risk him waking and seeing the others… Ten guards will go with you to make sure you are safe."

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><p><em>Anor – the sun<em>

_Imladris – Rivendell_

_Ellon (pl. ellyn) – male elf_

_Elleth (pl. ellyth) – female elf_

_Elfling – child elf_

_Meldir - friend_

_Penneth - young one_

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><p><em>That's it for the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. I'll post the next chapter as soon as I'm able to. Please, if you liked it, leave a review, it really helps to know that there actually are people reading it ! (If you didn't like it, you are welcomed too, constructive criticism is always appreciated)<em>


	2. Imladris' newest citizen

_Here is the second chapter of the story. Sorry it took me so long to update: I lost the file in a computer crash and it was hard to to find the motivation to start all over again._

_Thanks a lot for the reviews, it really helped!_

_Please note that this chapter is un-betaed. I apologize again for any mistakes I made. If you find some, feel free to contact me and I'll correct them right away!_

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><p><strong>Imladris' newest citizen<strong>

It was a beautiful day. Anor had just risen and the morning air was crisp, announcing the end of summer. Though the weather had been very clement lately, October was fast approaching and the first autumn storms would soon be upon them. But not today. The clear blue sky promised a warm day that the absence of breeze would turn hot as noon neared. In just a few hours, everyone would be out enjoying the sun and laughter would cascade along the waterfalls once again. It was still early though. The 8 a.m. bell had yet to toll in the valley and everything was quiet.

One of its inhabitants though seemed to be impervious to the peaceful atmosphere. In his study, the Lord of Imladris was pacing relentlessly. His usually carefully schooled features betrayed his inner turmoil, his eyebrows pinched together in concern. He went from the window to the hearth, from the hearth to the shelves, then back to the window before starting all over again.

The raven haired elf was halfway through the room when a shout resounded, startling him out of his inner musing. He stopped in mid-stride, remaining frozen in surprise for a second, before hurrying to the windows to see what had caused the disturbance. In the courtyard below, two raven haired ellyn were wrestling playfully with one another. One had the other pinned on his back and it seemed the fall had been the cause of the outburst. The elf at the bottom struggled to free himself but his companion had him secured and apparently refused to let him up.

This went on for a few moments and the outcome of the fight appeared to be settled when suddenly the fallen one changed his tactic. Peals of laugher resounded as he mercilessly tickled his opponent. In an instant the situation reversed and it wasn't long before pleas for mercy were heard. The match ended and the winner helped the other up. Twin faces shone with excitement as the two combatants dusted themselves off before retreating into the house, probably off to attend breakfast as the bell tower announced the start of the day.

In his study, Elrond smiled indulgently at his sons antics. Though they were long past their majority, the twins still often behaved in a manner more fit for elflings than grown up elves. Yet everybody easily forgave them their sometime childish behavior for they were also very reliable and knew when the situation demanded a more serious face. Their youthfulness was a true delight for the elves of the valley for elflings were few and far between. The growing shadow in the east dissuaded many as they feared the land would soon be wrecked by war once more, and war wasn't a time to raise children. Which brought him back to his current worries.

The messenger he had dispatched to Mirkwood had returned a week ago with Thranduil's reply. The king had been much aggrieved to learn the fate that had befallen the traveling party. He assured Elrond that he didn't hold him accountable for it, which had been a huge relief for the elf lord as, though the attack had occurred outside the borders of Imladris and he really wasn't at fault, Thranduil had been known to be quite irrational at time and to be rather vindictive at any perceived sleight, real or not. Elrond wouldn't have put it past him to declare war on the hidden valley in an instant of rage.

That particular fear had luckily been unfounded. The king had even expressed his gratitude for the funeral. It was the second part of the letter that caused the dark haired elf concern. After he had come home on that fateful day, he had asked the only other survivor about the child he had rescued. Selinde couldn't tell him much though, since he had only met the child a week before, when the trip started. The elfling was named Melpomaen and had been traveling with his mother and older sister. Elrond had inquired about the boy's father without much hope for, had he been alive, he surely would have accompanied his family to the havens. As it was, Saelbeth had been one of Thranduil's guards before he was killed in a recent spider attack. His wife had started to fade almost right away and decided to sail with her children.

The young elf hadn't been able to tell him more. If the child had any relative left in Mirkwood, he didn't know, but he rather doubted it. Melpomaen had been quite exuberant, being excited to leave the dark forest for the first time in his young life, and had happily chatted with all around him. He had talked about his home and the friends he had left behind, telling how dearly he missed them. Never once had he mentioned a family member.

So Elrond had resolved to ask Thranduil. The king's answer had been exactly as he had feared: Melpomaen didn't have any family left in middle earth. Even worse, there was none in Valinor that Thranduil knew of, unless they had been reincarnated already, but the elf lord knew how unlikely that was. Mithrandir, when asked, had told them that very few elves had been reborn so far and they were all elves who had lived in Aman before the sundering of the Noldor. Even if some remote kin of Melpomaen were among them, they would be total strangers. The child was now completely orphaned and it fell to Elrond to decide what was best for him.

The first solution would have been to send him on with Selinde anyway. The Sylvan had continued on his journey to the havens right after the funeral and had offered to take Melpomaen with him. At that time however, Elrond had still been hoping to find some living kin of the child. By the time Thranduil's answer had arrived, the envoy was long gone. Besides, there was no guarantee that there would be someone willing to take the child in.

This only left two possibilities: either send the elfling back to Mirkwood as Thranduil had offered to take him in, or keep him in Imladris. It seemed best to bring the child back home so that he could be in familiar surroundings which would help him recover from the ordeal, but the way through the high pass was hazardous at best and with the orcs becoming so bold as to attack a large party this close to the valley, Elrond was reluctant to risk Melpomaen's safety on such a dangerous journey.

To keep him in Imladris though wasn't without drawbacks. Elrond had been willing to adopt the elfling himself at first, and he knew Celebrian would have been delighted, but in the short time he had lived in the last homely house, the child had started to show an unhealthy attachment to its lord. He vowed his rescuer a hero worship that was close to adoration. He had followed him around the house like a shadow and refused to let anyone else touch him. It took a direct order from Elrond every morning to make him stay with his wife, and every night to have him stay in his assigned room. This situation couldn't go on any longer. If the child was to stay in the valley, it would have to be in one of the individual cottage scattered around. But who could he be entrusted to? After a week of reflection, he still wasn't any closer to a solution.

Elrond tore himself from the contemplation of the now empty courtyard and sat down at his desk with a sigh. He had to think rationally about the matter. Taking up a quill and a piece of parchment, he started to write down the names of the members of his household, hoping to find someone he hadn't considered before. In vain. For each one of them there was some detail that made them unsuitable for the task of raising a child. Some of them lived alone and, while this in itself wasn't a problem, Elrond strongly believed that, after the trauma he had suffered, Melpomaen needed normality. Others were known to be prone to drinking or gambling, not something a child should be exposed to. And of course, while most elves delighted in the presence of elfling, few were ready to have one of their own...

A knock at the door interrupted his musings. He looked at the sheet in front of him and pinched the bridge of his nose. After half an hour, all he had come up with was a list of elves and reasons why they weren't fit for the job. He really wasn't getting anywhere with this. Calling his visitor in, he pushed the parchment aside and tried to do the same with his concerns. He was the lord of the valley and other matters demanded his attention.

The door of the study opened and Erestor entered. The counselor was precariously balancing a huge stack of papers on one hand and a breakfast tray on the other. Elrond rushed to take the later from him, before his correspondence ended up soaked in tea. How the Noldo had even managed to open the door was a true mystery but Elrond had stopped long ago to wonder at Erestor's achievements. The feats he pulled off were close to miracles. The chief advisor managed to do the impossible so often that his lord thanked the Valar almost everyday that he had decided to join his household. Imladris wouldn't be running as smoothly if it weren't for him and Elrond feared it would collapse in chaos should Erestor ever leave.

Relieved of half of his burden, he almost sauntered to the desk in his usual eagerness to start the day's business.

"Good morning Lord Elrond. I noticed you weren't present at breakfast and took the liberty to have a tray prepared for you. I hope you don't mind."

There was a barely audible hint of humor in the councilor's voice and would have gone unnoticed, had Elrond not known him so well. To anyone else, it would have seemed that the Noldo was merely expressing his concern that his Lord might be displeased by his initiative. The two elves had started their meeting over a breakfast tray often enough to ensure it wasn't the case, though the situation was usually reversed.

"Erestor, my dear friend, how many times have I told you not to be so formal when we are alone? I get 'lorded' all day, please allow me some respite in my private quarters. But tell me, was there any particular reason for you to attend the morning meal today? It is much too rare to have your company at the table."

"As a matter of fact, there was. A messenger arrived late last night from the golden wood and I wished to share his tidings with you before you met."

"A messenger? Why wasn't I informed immediately upon his arrival?"

"It was already very late, Elrond, and the message wasn't so urgent that it needed to rouse the entire household. I hadn't retired yet so I listened to his report and saw to his accommodation. Haldir won't mind, I assure you."

"Haldir! Really Erestor, you should have had me waken immediately. This is no way to receive the Marchwarden ! And with my absence at breakfast..."

"Which I assure you he didn't notice," Erestor interrupted before his lord could work himself into a fit of panic and self reproach. "Just as he didn't require your presence at the late hour of his arrival, we didn't begrudge him his sleep this morning. If I assessed his form correctly, we won't see him before noon."

"You are probably right, as always... Sometimes I think you should be the lord of Imladris, not I..."

"And be expected to wed and produce an heir? That would be a disaster."

"Yes, it might be a problem since you barely visit your bed once in a while," Elrond remarked with a smile. He had given up trying to get Erestor to work less long ago. Imladris' chief counselor lived for his work. "Jokes aside, what was the message?"

The morning dragged on and Elrond found it harder and harder to concentrate on the day's business. Always his thoughts would wander off to the small elfling who was probably impatiently awaiting his return. Erestor already had to call him to order twice. But what could he do? He had agreed to take Melpomaen in and he was now his responsibility. He had to find a solution!

"... my lord?"

Yes, he was the lord of the valley and the well-being of its inhabitants was his responsibility. And yet he was so incompetent that he couldn't deal with a single child.

"My lord!"

It was a wonder Imladris was still standing...

"Elrond!"

"What?" Finally the alarmed tone broke through his fruitless circle of self recriminations. Looking up he met with the concerned eyes of the chief counselor and realized that he had, once again, drifted off. "I'm sorry, Erestor, I was lost in thoughts. What were you saying?"

An indulgent smile graced the Noldo's features at seeing his lord's contrite features. Knowing Elrond would blame himself for his lapse of attention, he got up and circled the desk. Coming to a halt beside the other's chair, he put a companionable hand on his shoulder.

"I wasn't saying anything that can't wait. What is troubling you my friend?"

"Nothing of importance. I'm sorry I drifted off."

"None of this now, Elrond, I know you too well. I can tell something is bothering you and it must be a matter of importance if it kept you from breakfast."

"It's nothing, really..." Elrond was getting annoyed with himself. This problem was one he should be able to solve himself, there was no reason to involve his chief counselor in it.

"And that 'nothing' wouldn't be named Melpomaen by any chance?"

Elrond froze. How had Erestor guessed? He was sure he hadn't mentioned it to anyone but his wife and Celebrian would not have said anything to anyone until he had reached a decision.

"How... How do you know..."

"Come on Elrond, you know nothing happens inside this house without my knowledge. I noticed the little one's behavior. Why don't you tell me what's on you're mind? You know you can trust me."

With a defeated sigh, the lord of Imladris motioned his advisor back to his seat and explained the situation.

"So you are looking for a family for the little one... What about Gwenfael and Cuthalion? They would take good care of him."

"They are still mourning their son's passing, I cannot ask this of them."

"I am not saying they will accept, but they seem a good choice and it might pull them of their grief. Beside, what do you have to lose? You know that if nothing changes they are going to have to sail soon. This could be just what they need to pull through."

"You might be right... This could solve both problems actually, as losing Cuthalion would leave a huge gap in our defenses, which are strained enough as it is... Yes, this would be a perfect solution. I'll talk to them about it."

"Good. Now that your mind is at ease, shall we return to today's business?"

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><p><strong>Elvish translations:<strong>

_Ellyn – male elves_

_Elfling – elf child_

_Anor – the sun_


	3. Of lullabies and old friends

_Hi!_

_Here comes the third chapter of Bound, well, the first part of it anyway. I couldn't seem to start writing it but now I have, it turns to be much longer than I intended and my mobile is already struggling to open the file so I figured I'd just split it in two. It's a first draft and am afraid I didn't take enough time to proof-read it, but I was so eager to share it that I figured I would just put it up and check it again this weekend when I have more time._

_I apologize to those who were expecting Elrond to be fading already. I had planned this part of the story as a short prologue but I found myself enjoying writing about Melpomaen's childhood so much that things have gotten out of hand a bit ^^. Slash will have to wait to, but I promise I'll get to it in... I guess I can't really say how many chapters seeing how I keep adding details!_

_I guess that's all... Enjoy!_

_PS: I'm still looking for a beta so if anyone would like to provide some feed back, I'd be very grateful._

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><p><em>I proof-read the chapter, as promised. I hope it's a bit better now, though I'm not sure I used the right tense everywhere...<em>

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><p><strong>Of lullabies and old friends<strong>

Seasons had come and gone and Melpomaen remained as shy as ever. He seemed to have adapted to his new life very well though. He followed his new nanneth every where she went, his hand clutching her skirts tightly, as if he were afraid that, should he let go, she would disappear forever. And who could blame him, knowing the traumatic events that led to his arrival in the hidden valley? The poor elfling had been so terrified that he still hid behind her every time strangers were near, though three years had already passed since that fateful day. He wouldn't talk to anyone except his parents, unless specifically told to, not even close family friends. That was, except for Lord Elrond.

Gwenfael remembered the day the elf Lord had visited her home as if it had been yesterday. She had been home with her husband, sitting in the kitchen. They both had been watching the day while away, waiting for the shadows to lengthen, as they had every single day for the past two months. Ever since their son's passing, nothing could hold their interest. It was as if life itself had lost its fragrance. They didn't talk, they didn't eat, even their friends had stopped coming after a while. The knock at the door had therefore come as a huge surprise for the grieving couple.

They hadn't replied at first, too shocked by the sudden noise. No one had disturbed their mourning for a week now and they had grown accustomed to the silence of their little cottage. They lived about half a day's walk from the last homely house, on the northern edge of the valley. It took at least one hour to reach the closest home from there so they only sounds that could usually be heard were those of the stream that flowed joyously through the meadow and of birds coming to peck at crumbs of breads on the windowsill. It had been Gwenfael's habit to feed then there every day but she couldn't muster the strength to bake anything of late. They too had then become scarce.

When the second knock had gone unanswered as well, Elrond had decided to wait no longer and opened the unlocked door. To see his lord standing in the entrance of his living room, a worried expression on his face, had shaken Cuthalion out of his stupor. Almost jumping out of his chair, he had quickly crossed the distance to the door to greet the half-elf. It was only when she had heard him speak that Gwenfael had realized who exactly had entered their home.

It had taken Elrond almost an hour to assure them nothing was amiss and that he hadn't been offended that they had made him wait. During that time, his healer's eyes had assessed their condition carefully, noting the little signs that betrayed their slow fading. In fact, given how often Cuthalion apologized for not being able to resume his duties as Glorfindel's second in command, he strongly suspected this was the only reason the two were still alive. Once they had settled down at last, Gwenfael having blushed profusely upon noticing she had nothing to offer their visitor, not even a cup of tea, Elrond had explained the motive for his visit.

Cuthalion had been strongly opposed to the idea of taking the elfling in at first. He had felt as if the elf lord was trying to replace Thallalven and had resented him for it. He had been about to turn the offer down rather abruptly when he had sensed the spark of longing from his wife over their bond. One look into her hopeful eyes had been enough to change his mind. She had wanted to have a second child for a long time but he had been reluctant. The growing darkness didn't bode well for the future and, like many, he had thought such times weren't suitable to raise a child. They had argued over and over again but he had never given in. That day however, though times were more dangerous than ever, he had felt he couldn't refuse her anymore. He had been the one forcing her to remain on these shores after all, when her grief commanded that she sailed right away lest it overcame her. His sense of duty wouldn't allow him to leave and so she lingered by his side. If this child could help her bear the pain, he would concede.

The look of relief on his lord's face would have been enough to tell Cuthalion he had made the right decision, but the overwhelming joy and gratitude coming from his wife had made his heart soar. This had been the first positive emotion they had shared in two months and he suddenly had felt hopeful again. Life would never be the same again, now that Thallalven was gone, and he would forever grieve for him, until the day they were reunited, but maybe there could still be a life after all.

Things had gone quickly from then on. It had been agreed that Elrond would accompany Melpomaen to his new home by the end of the week and, as soon as the elf lord had left their house, Gwenfael had burst into action. She had listed everything she wanted to do before the child came and had started by cleaning the entire cottage, all the while muttering about the dreadful state the place was in. Cuthalion had watched her fondly from his chair, a soft smile gracing his stern face for the first time since their son's death.

The only one who hadn't been thrilled by the situation was of course Melpomaen. On the day he had been brought to meet his new family, the elfling had cried and clung to Elrond's cape with all his might. The elf lord had tried to comfort the distraught child but in vain. He had finally left him in the arms of Gwenfael, knowing that nothing would change as long as he stayed there. The blond elleth had held Melpomaen against her heart for hours until at last the tears subsided and he fell asleep. Elrond had warned them that Melpomaen had become deeply attached to him and that the separation would surely be difficult, but they hadn't thought it would be so hard. The elfling would sit in front of the door all day long, not saying a word, hoping that somehow his saviour would come and take him back. A week had passed before he had realized that Elrond wasn't coming back. This revelation had thrown him into despair. He had refused food and water and for a while Gwenfael had feared they would lose him. His troubled soul wouldn't even allow him to rest. Desperate to find a solution, she had started to sing to him softly, hoping to lull him to sleep. Like all her previous efforts it had appeared doomed to fail at first. Melpomaen didn't seem to pay her any attention. She had persevered nonetheless as the familiar lullabies were soothing to her own anxious mind. Cuthalion would go to Elrond on the morning to seek his help. This probably meant Melpomaen would leave them but it was better than to see him die slowly before their very eyes.

She had just started a new tune, one her mother had sung when she was but an elfling herself, when the scarf she had been knitting was suddenly ripped from her hands. She had cried out in shock and, before she had a chance to recover, Melpomaen had climbed on her knees and was holding her neck tightly. "Nanna!" he had cried brokenly between sobs that wrecked his small frame. Once her surprise had ebbed away, Gwenfael had enfolded him in a tight hug and started to rock him, whispering calming words to his ear. She had met the wondering gaze of her husband who had rushed inside when he heard her cry.

"What happened?" He had asked when Melpomaen's eyes closed in exhaustion.

"I don't know, I was singing and he flung himself into my arms…"

"He called you 'nanna'… You must have done something that triggered his memories…"

"I was just knitting, just as I have been doing every night these last three days, it shouldn't have surprised him, unless… Of course! It was a song my mother taught me!"

"So?"

"My mother, Thal, my mother who immigrated here from Mirkwood!"

"Do you recon his mother may have sung him the same song?"

"I'm sure of it! We have broken through his grief at last! Now he will recover and he will be able to stay here!"

"Let's not claim victory so soon, he has yet to eat anything. I'll wait until tomorrow but if he skips breakfast again, I'm getting Lord Elrond."

"Don't worry, I'm sure he will eat, all will be well now…"

Gwenfael might have been a bit too enthusiastic and all was not well for sure, but Cuthalion's doubts had proven unfounded: Melpomaen had eaten breakfast the next morning and every following one after that. From that day on, he had never again locked himself in his own mind and had become the sweetest child one could wish for. It had taken him a while longer to trust his adoptive father but he had slowly warmed up to the caring ellon. Though the raven haired elf wished he could play him like he had with his son so many years ago, wrestling and mock fighting, tumbling around the clearing, he was also content to simply stay with him and enjoy quiet games.

Soon however Cuthalion had felt the pull of duty once more. His wife had recovered and Melpomaen was starting to settle down so he had deemed it was time for him to take his place among the guards once more. This had been cause for some tearful farewell, for Melpomaen feared to let go of his new found ada. But eventually, he had grown accustomed to Cuthalion's long absences. Elrond had visited a few times and had been pleased to see that the elfling had grown accustomed to his new life. The child had still vowed him the same hero worship but it had seemed to have decreased in intensity and he no longer tried to follow the elf lord wherever he went. The one thing that had troubled him was Melpomaen's shy and insecure nature. Though it had been obvious that he enjoyed being out in the clearing and the contact of the trees, as any wood elf would, he never went outside unless Gwenfael was accompanying him. He also seldom spoke and always had an air of seriousness about him that made him look older that he really was. It was of course to be expected that a fate so terrible as the one that had befallen his family would mark him forever but still, this quiet child couldn't be more different from the on Selinde had depicted. Elrond had shared his concerns with Gwenfael and she had agreed to try and convince Melpomaen to act more his age.

Time had passed however and Melpomaen remained the same. Though at first, Gwenfael had found his need to stay close to her at all times endearing, she too had slowly become concerned. This was a very unusual behaviour in an elfling, who more often than not could be rowdy and mischievous. Melpomaen on the other hand contented himself with his lessons. He had learned to read very quickly and delighted in all written knowledge. He soaked up all his ada taught him almost faster than it could be taught and was probably the only elfling in the whole valley who was disappointed to be released to play.

Gwenfael was shaken out of her thoughts by a knock at the door. Immediately Melpomaen closed the book he had been reading on the kitchen table and rushed to hide behind her, gripping her skirt tightly. Sighing, she went to answer the door.

"Mae govannen, Gwenfael!"

Gwenfael blinked. Her best friend, Nenorui, stood in front of her a big grin plastered on the petite face. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

"Mae govannen, Nenorui, it has been a while!" She smiled back at the red haired elleth. "Come in, please."

"Actually, I was rather hoping you would come out." She replied with a conspiratorial look on her face. "I'd like to abduct you and take you on a shopping spree. It has been much too long since we girls last had fun together."

The green eyes were sparkling with mirth as they looked into her own blue ones. She had forgotten how contagious Nenorui's moods were and longed to once again follow her on the craziest adventures. They had known each others since they were elflings and had played many pranks together, much to the despair of their respective mothers who thought their behaviour un-lady like and thus unacceptable. Even now that they were older and had long left their youthful restlessness behind them, they would still often spend the day together, ogling the market stalls or even going for a game of stag around the House's kitchens, just to annoy Nenorui's mother who was head cook there. That was until her son had been killed on patrol.

She firmly pushed aside the sad memories, not wanting them to mar their reunion. She hadn't realized how much she had missed Nenorui's crazy plans until she actually showed at her door and felt slightly guilty about that.

"Come on, Gwen! Just like the old days!" Nenorui pleaded, reaching for her hand. "Please?"

Gwenfael had to laugh at the hopeful expression in the beautiful eyes. Her son had turned the very same toward her when he wanted to be allowed out to play with his friends before he had finished with his studies. She was about to give in when a small tug at her skirt brought reality crashing back.

"I can't." She replied with a sigh. "Cuthalion is on patrol and I can't leave Melpomaen alone."

"Melpomaen?" asked Nenorui.

She reached behind her and slowly dragged Melpomaen forward. He immediately tried to hide his face in her apron, as if this could make the stranger disappear.

"Lord Elrond entrusted him to us and he has become a second son to me. As you can see, he is painfully shy..."

Nenorui gazed at the small elfling, studying him briefly. There wasn't much she could see with the way he pressed himself against his nanneth. A mop of unruly brown hair reached down to the small of his back and rested atop a light blue tunic. She had heard about him, of course, he had been the focus of all gossips among the seamstresses when he had first arrived. She recalled one of her friends telling her of his fostering but had forgotten all about it until now.

She considered the problem carefully. While she understood her friend couldn't just leave the child behind on his own, she had seen the longing in her eyes when she mentioned the little outing. It had been much too long since Gwenfael had allowed herself any fun and she was determined to change that. One solution would be to have him tag along but that would take away half the fun. She knew her friend and how much of a mother hen she could be. She would spent all her time looking after him and forget to enjoy herself. She pondered what to do for a few minutes, watching the blond elleth rub his arms soothingly in an effort to reassure him but he never relaxed his hold on her.

"What about friends? Isn't there one he could stay with?" She suddenly asked.

"I wished," replied Gweanfael sadly. "Melpomaen doesn't have any friend. There aren't many elflings around, none that I know, and I fear leaving him with a stranger. He hasn't seemed to miss their company so far. He doesn't play much anyway. He is so serious..." Her voice trailed off.

Nenorui read all the concern Melpomaen's attitude caused her friend. She obviously wanted it to change and was probably at loss with what to do. The red head ran a hand through her curls. There had to be a way... Suddenly her hand stopped. That was it!

"I have the perfect solution for you then." She grinned. "You know my neighbour Velaer, don't you?" When Gwenfael nodded, a hopeful look in her bright blue eyes, she continued. "He son Lindir is a sweet little darling and is but a few years older than Melpomaen. I'm sure she wouldn't mind looking after him for the day. And it would give him the chance to meet elves his age."

"I don't know..." Gwenfael replied thoughtfully. "He doesn't like strangers much and to just leave him with someone he just met..."

"Well, it might just be what is needed to draw him out!" She insisted. "Maybe seeing it is alright to have fun will make him open up. He can't spend all his life inside!"

"You're right, of course, I just feel it's too sudden... Perhaps if we could just introduce them today, see how it goes, and then decide whether to leave them together or not next time..."

"Come on, Gwen, you very well know it would never work." She was starting to become exasperated. There was the over protectiveness she dreaded! "If he is as shy as it seems, he will just cling to you like he is doing right now and you will hold him close to you at all time. I know you. Then you'll think he doesn't feel safe enough with them and never agree to leave him there. I promise Velaer will look after him and Lindir really is a nice elfling. He will be fine!"

Gwenfael still looked uncertain. It would of course be nice if Melpoamen could make a friend but she hadn't thought about it until now. If only Cuthalion was here! She could ask for his opinion and he would know what to do. But her husband wouldn't be back until evening, when he would return from his three weeks rotation at the border. It was a decision she would have to make on her own.

"Fine." She finally gave in. "It is worth a giving it a try anyway. Worse case scenario, he will just remain in a corner like he does at home…"

If she had known how wrong she was, she would never have let him out of her sight…

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><p><strong>Elvish translations:<strong>

_Elleth - female elf  
>Ellon - male elf<em>_  
>Elfling - elf child<br>Nanneth - mother  
>Nanna - mommy<em>_  
>Mae govannen - hello<br>Ada - father_


	4. The song of the trees

_Here is the next part of the story, un-beta-ed and still in need of being proof-read. I'll check it this weekend, along with chapter 3. In the mean time, enjoy!_

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><p><em>As promised, I proof-read the chapter. I also corrected a few mistakes in the first two and I hope it's a bit better now.<em>

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><p><strong>The song of the trees<strong>

Melpomaen sat in silence in a corner of the living room. Gwenfael had left an hour ago, telling him to behave and obey Velaer, the elleth who lived here, until she came back to pick him up. As if there was any need to warn him, he thought bitterly, he always behaved. When had he ever disobeyed an order?

"She wouldn't have left you if that was true." A small voice whispered in the recesses of his mind.

"She said she would be back for me." He tried to argue.

"So what? Your ada also promised to return, did he not?" The cruel voice continued.

"Ada wanted to come back"

"But he didn't."

There was no denying it. His father had left for patrol one day and never came back. He had been playing with his sister when his nanneth had suddenly collapsed next to them. He still remembered how terrified he had been then, how helpless. After that day, she never was the same again. She had weakened little by little until one day she could barely walk anymore. That night he had cried at her side and begged her not to leave him too. She had hold him in her arms, promising they would always be together. A week after they had left with many other elves to go to the harbour.

At first, Melpomaen had been curious of every thing around him and asked many question. This was after all the first time he had left the dark forests of Mirkwood. Soon however he grew tired of it. The journey was putting a strain on him and he missed his books dearly. He had never been one to spend much time outdoors, preferring to lie on his stomach in front of the kitchen's fire and look at the lovely pictures. He also longed to be left alone with the quiet of his thoughts, where he could dream and shape the world to his liking. But he had seen how happy his mother was when he talked to others. A rare smile graced her too thin face as she saw him chat merrily with their fellow travellers. And so he had continued to pester them constantly with questions, displaying an exuberance he was far from feeling.

He had believed that if his nanneth was pleased she would keep her promise and stay with him forever. Surely if he could bring the laugher back in her eyes she wouldn't want to leave. It hadn't been enough though. That night he had woken up to the cries of alarm of the guards on watch. The trees around them had been screaming in anguish and he had been terrified. He had whimpered pitifully in his mother's arms as those who could fight had drawn whatever weapons they carried. It had been the night of the new moon and, though the sky was clear, the light of the stars had seemed dim to his eyes. Everywhere he had looked there had only been darkness. Even the forest had carried an air of menace.

He noticed first the smell. The stench that assaulted his nostrils was one he had never experienced before. He had almost thrown up. And then he had seen them. He shivered as he remembered the horrific sight. Yellow eyes that glinted with malice as they emerged from the shadows, their putrid flesh barely covered by tattered rags. There had been so many, so many more than the small number of soldiers that accompanied their party... In an instant they had launched themselves upon the guards and the fight had begun. The noise had been deafening. The guttural screams of the orcs mingled with the grunts of pains of those who were injured amidst the clashing of swords and knives. And they were losing. One after the other the guards fell to the blows of the beasts.

"Mel!" His mother's urgent voice broke through the veil of terror that had frozen his mind.

"Listen to me, Mel. You have to go. Run to the forest and hide."

"I can't nanna, I can't leave you!" He cried pitifully.

"Yes you can, penneth, and you will."

"Why can't you come with me?"

"I'm too big, they will see me, but you'll be able to slip through unnoticed."

"I don't want to go." Desperate sobs were wracking his lithe frame.

"Enough of this, child!" The angry tone was enough to make him snap to attention. Never before had his nanneth used such a voice with him. "I am ordering you to go and so will you. Your ada would be very disappointed to know you refused to obey me."

"I'm sorry nanna!"

"It's alright, Mel." She held him to her heart for a few seconds. "I love you Mel, never forget that."

"I love you too nanna."

"I know darling, I know. Now, give a kiss to your sister and go. Stay hidden until we come to get you."

He had run as fast as he could, dodging between the huge bodies of the fighters. No one noticed the small form that hurried between them, silent as a ghost. He reached the forest and didn't stop until the sounds of battle faded. He found a clearing where a tall helm beconed him close. Sliding under the bushes that grew at his foot, he curled in a ball and waited for his mother to come.

But she hadn't. Instead he had been found by a kind dark haired ellon. Lord Elrond. His saviour. His nanneth had left him too and if the elflord hadn't found him he would probably have died in his hiding place. No one would have known. No one would have looked for him. Instead the lord had offered him a place to stay and had hold him through the nightmares. He had never felt lonely with him. Lord Glorfindel was nice too, but it wasn't the same. The Elda was beautiful, perfect, and shone brightly with the light of the Valar. Melpomaen had looked at him in awe and was glad just to be in his presence. It would feel wrong to seek the comfort of his arms, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe because the reborn warrior was so far above him that he was simply unreachable. Lord Elrond was different. The elfling never felt awkward or weak in his presence. He just wanted to be with him at all time to make sure he wouldn't disappear.

Elrond hadn't disappear but he had left him nonetheless. Melpomaen understood why, truly. He had been too clingy. The elf lord had his own family and was happy with them. Of course he wouldn't want the elfling around all the time. His heart was filled with love for his own children and for his wife. He had been kind enough to let Melpomaen stay with them for a while and he shouldn't have intruded. But he couldn't help wanting more! He had tried to take too much of his time and so Elrond had left him with his new family. Just like his new nanneth was leaving him now.

Velaer was observing Melpomaen from where she sat at the table, pealing potatoes for the evening meal, and noticed how his breath quickened. This was the first noticeable change in his attitude since his mother had left. Though Gwenfael had warned her about his shyness, the unnatural stillness worried her and she was glad for the new development, even if she didn't know what had caused it. She glanced in the direction of her son. Lindir was reading a book on the couch, or at least pretending to as his eyes weren't moving. He too was watching the younger elfling with attention. She smiled when she recognised the expression on his face for it was the very same one he wore when he happened upon a wounded animal: he was wondering how he could help their strange little guest.

"Lindir." Velaer called. He turned his head in her direction and waited for her to continue. "How about you and Melpomaen go out and play for a while? It's a much too lovely day to stay cooped up inside and you'll get to know each other better this way."

Lindir's face lit up and his eyes thanked her silently.

"Come on now. Off with the two of you."

She watched as her son slowly rose and went to Melpomaen. He reached for his hand, helping him up before dragging him toward the door, never leaving him time to protest. She just hoped being surrounded by trees would help the young one relax so that he may open up to Lindir.

Lindir and Melpomaen walked in silence for a while, the former never letting go of the small hand resting reluctantly in his. The path they were on took them past a well tended orchard, where he plucked out two apples in case they grew hungry, and through tall crops. Summer was coming to an end and it would soon be time for the harvest. He suddenly veered left between two fields of barley and wheat. The look on Melpomean's face as the change of direction took him off guard was priceless. He stumbled on the uneven stones separating the two fields, lost his balance and had to grab Lindir's shoulder to keep himself from falling. After a few minutes of treacherous walk, they reached the small grove that was their destination.

"Here we are." Lindir said. "This is my sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?"

"The place I go to when I want to be alone. It is so quiet, so peaceful... And I love to hear the trees' songs. Here I can enjoy it safely." He replied, smiling at the timid inquiry. This was the first time his companion had talked without being prompted.

Melpomaen looked around him. A babbling stream meandered joyously between the roots of tall broad white oaks whose long branches sheltered them from the blazing sun. He reached for the nearest and rested his head against the rough bark, listening to its voice. The trees here were happy. They felt safe and protected. They told of the many elflings who had come to play amongst them over the centuries they had stood tall. They remembered the first farmers that had ploughed the grassland that once surrounded them, when they were but saplings. They had mourned the loss of the grass but had gained the company of the elves. They loved to observe the elves.

"Do you hear them?" Lindir had been so engrossed in watching the quiet wood elf that he almost missed the whispered question.

"I hear their song, but their words do not reach my heart, if that's what you mean. They have the most beautiful voice." Melpomaen turned to look at him curiously so he continued. "They are the soothing deep counterpoint to the sweet melody of the brook. When the wind joins them, gently rustling their upper branches, it's like a symphony and my heart soars."

Melpomaen's face lit up a those words. Here was someone at last who understood the beauty of the trees. His new nanneth liked them, but she didn't hear them. She didn't know how fascinating their tales were. Lindir knew. He may not understand their words but he shared his love for the tall watchers. Timidly he started to tell him their story, gaining confidence as he spoke and Lindir listened with rapt attention.

They had been talking for a little over an hour, sharing their love for nature, when they heard footsteps approaching. Immediately Melpomaen tensed and became silent once more. Lindir turned and waited to see who came to disturb their peace. A few seconds later, a familiar face appeared between the branches.

"Lindir! I stopped by your house but your mom told me you had gone out and I figured you'd be here. We are going to play in the clearing, wanna come?"

Lindir groaned inwardly and move forward to greet his friend. Why did Vellthand have to pick up today of all days to seek him out? He truly enjoyed the elder elf's company but he had finally managed to draw Melpomaen out of his shell. If the once more guarded expression was anything to go by, he would now have to start all over again.

"It's good to see you, Vellthand. I hadn't expected you. I'm sorry but I am busy today. Perhaps another time."

"Hun? Who is that?" He asked, peering over his shoulder. "I have never seen him before."

"This is Melpomaen. He is the son of a friend of my mother."

"Well, bring him along, it's no problem. After all, don't we always say 'the more the merrier'?"

Lindir was torn. Refusing the invitation would be rude and he didn't want to hurt his friend, but he felt uneasy at the idea. He feared Melpomaen's reaction. The young wood elf was easily intimidated and Vellthand was rather impressive. He was older than them, being just a year away from the start of his apprenticeship. As such he was already taller and since he already spent a lot of time helping his father at the forge, he was impressively built. Their other playmates, though closer to Lindir's age, were all similarly built. Still, it had been a while since they had been able to play together and Vellthand soon wouldn't have time to join them anymore so he was reluctant to pass the occasion.

Melpomaen observed the torn expression on his new friend's face and sighted. He would have preferred to stay there, enjoying Lindir's company, but it would be selfish. However much he wished to keep his friend to himself, he shouldn't be greedy. Lindir had been exceptionally kind to him and he didn't want to drive him away. Beside, should Gwenfael come back for him, she surely would be happy to see that he behaved more sociably. Perhaps this way she would allow him to stay with her?

He swallowed hard and went to stand beside the other two. Smiling tightly, he nodded his agreement. Lindir reached for his hand and together they left the peace of the grove.

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><p><strong>Elvish translations:<strong>

_Nanneth - mother  
>Nanna - mommy<br>Elfling - elf child  
>Elleth - female elf<br>Ada - father  
>Penneth - little one<br>Ellon - male elf_

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><p><em>0708/2012: I had hoped to post the next chapter (or rather, the third and last part of what I had planned as the third chapter) today but it will have to wait a bit longer: I have an exam tomorrow and can't seem to concentrate. I should have it up by Wednesday though..._

_I see from the stats that there are some people reading this. I'm glad I found out this functionality because I was worried no one read the story as there haven't been any review since the first chapter... If you like it, please leave a comment, it really helps !_


	5. A harmless game

_Hi!_

_As promised, here is the next part of the story, on time ^^._

_If you like it, please review!_

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><p><strong>A harmless game<strong>

The clearing Lindir led Melpomaen to lied halfway between his house and the grove. It wasn't inside the forest properly speaking but formed an jutting of the grassland into the trees, similar to that of a foreland onto the sea. About twenty yards in length by ten across, it was strewn with rocks and a lone oak stood in its centre. While not as beautiful as the meadow by Melpomaen's house, it provided the elfling with a space to play out of the watchful eye of their parents.

When the trio arrived, two raven haired elfling were reclining against the oak's broad trunk. They stood up as soon as they spotted the new comers and advanced to meet them.

"Vellthand! Lindir! At last! We were starting to think you'd leave us hanging here the whole day!" The one on the left greeted. He had a cheerful face that had yet to loose its childish roundness and grey eyes that sparkled with mirth. "What kept you?"

"Sorry Faevreg," Vellthand replied, grinning in return, "Lindir was hiding again. You know how he is: once he enters his sanctuary, it takes forever to get him out."

"Hey, not fair! I came almost right away. Beside, to make up for it, I brought a new friend. Faevreg, Thalaind, meet Melpomaen."

Melpomaen would rather have remained hidden behind Lindir's taller frame but the white haired elfling dragged him resolutely forward, not giving him the chance to complain. A quick look around told him that everyone had their eyes fixed upon him. Unaccustomed to be the centre of attention, he lowered his gazed immediately and started to shift uncomfortably from one foot to another.

"Mel, the one on the left is Faevreg." Lindir continued, trying to ease the tension he felt emanating from the younger elf. "He is the carpenter's son. Don't pay any attention to what he says, his tongue moves faster than he can think and he is a worse gossiper than chamber maids." The conniving wink was lost to Melpomaen since e was still busy examining his boots but it effectively managed to divert Faevreg's attention.

"What did you say?" The outraged elfling exclaimed. "I do not gossip!"

"Yes you do."

"Do not!"

"You do and you fully well know that. Remember that time when you..."

The arguing voices seemed to trail off in the distance as he looked in astonishment at the broad, calloused hand that had been extended right under his nose. He slowly raised his head and met with the warm chocolate eyes of the fourth elfling. While he had closely resembled Faevreg in the distance, Melpomaen could see that they didn't share much except for their black hair and build. The one standing before him had a lean face and a strong jaw. His calm, assessing gaze spoke of a maturity far more advanced than his years.

"I'm Thalaind." He introduced himself once he had captured Melpomaen's attention. «The cabinetmaker's son. Don't mind them, they argue like that all the time. So you're a friend from Lindir?"

"I... Hum... That is..." Melpomaen started nervously. He wanted to say that he was, and Lindir was every bit of a friend to him, but was the feeling mutual? They had only met each other a few hours ago and he wouldn't dare to assume such a thing!

"Yes he is a friend." Lindir had heard the last few words and seen the mounting panic in the youngster's eyes. His earlier misgivings were returning full force when he saw how uncomfortable his new friend was. "Come on guys, we didn't come here to chat all day like silly maidens! Let's play a game!" That immediately got him Faevreg's undivided attention.

"What should we play?"

"How about hide and seek for a start?" Vellthand raised a disbelieving eyebrow at this. They hadn't played hide and seek in years! He was about to protest that he was much too old for such a childish game when Lindir signalled him to look at Melpomaen, who was once more burning holes on his shoes. Well, he sighted interiorly, if it helped him relax...

"Sure, why mot?" He replied quickly before Faevreg had the chance to turn the proposition down with the scathing remark that he could see burning at the tip of his tongue. "Come, guys, I'll count. 100. First one I find is it for the next round."

As soon as Vellthand closed his eyes, the two raven haired elfling bolted. Melpomaen on the contrary seemed to be rooted on the spot. Lindir gave him a shove.

"Hurry, you have to hide or he'll find you!

They had been playing for over an hour and Melpomaen was enjoying himself tremendously. After he had recovered from the initial shock of meeting so many people at once, he had slowly started to relax. It wasn't long before he got caught into the game. All worries flew from his mind as he hurriedly dodged under roots, covered himself in moss or climbed to the highest branches of the central tree to avoid discovery. He had only played like this with his sister and it felt good to be carefree once again. Perhaps, he decided, meeting strangers might not be so bad after all.

It was Faevreg's turn to seek again. The exuberant elfling could never stay still for long and the rustle of leaves or the shimmer of the tall grass as he crouched low always gave him away. Melpomaen waited for him to start counting, ready to run toward the large burrow he had noticed earlier, but instead of closing his eyes, he simply let himself fall to the ground.

"What's wrong?" Thalaind asked as he approached cautiously. Faevreg was a well known prankster and had oft pretended to be injured, only to catch his unsuspecting friends and drag them into a wrestling match on the floor.

"I've had enough! I tire of this game. Can't we play something else?"

"You mean you tire of always losing, don't you?" Vellthand teased. "You really suck at hiding. How about we play a game of stag, that would help you burn some energy."

"Boring. How about Siniathcyll ? We haven't played that in like forever!"

"Good idea! I could use the workout." The elder elf agreed.

" Siniathcyll?" Lindir was suddenly nervous. "I don't know, Vell, it's hardly fair on Mel and me, You are all much stronger and taller than we are..."

"Well, that gave you an advantage in the previous game, did it not?" retorted Faevreg.

"You didn't do that poorly last time we played, if I remember correctly." Thalaind added in a smooth voice. "We may be stronger, but you're faster than us, don't discount that."

"And the two of you can team up with me," Vellthand offered, "that should even the chances, don't you think?"

Lindir looked at them hopelessly. This game was sure to scare Melpomaen off, it was much too rough, but he didn't know how to convince them to play something else without telling them so. And that would put Melpomaen on the spot light which would surely make him uncomfortable again. The elfling had just started to relax around them, he didn't want him to withdraw once more.

"Come on Lindir, please!" Large grey puppy eyes begged him. He couldn't resist that look!

"What about you, Mel, do you want to play?" Thalaind asked. Four pairs of eyes turned to the Silvan. Lindir groaned. This what just what he had been trying to avoid.

I... I don't know..." Melpomaen stammered. "I have never played this game... I... don't know how..."

"Well it's decided then! We'll play a round while you watch, so that you can learn, and if you like it, you'll join us for the second. If not, we'll find something else to do. I'm sure 'Vreg will be appeased once he has played a bit." Vellthand concluded. He turned to the others. "'Vreg, Thal, you'll be the assailants, Lindir and I are the envoys."

The pair quickly darted to the trees.

"They are going to prepare a strategy." Vellthand explained to the confused Melpomaen. "We are diplomats on a mission and we have to get to our destination, that rock over there." He pointed toward a rock that stood close to the break in the encircling forest. "We will have to cross the whole clearing to get there. Their goal is to prevent us from reaching it. Simple isn't it? Now come Lindir, we have to give them a free field."

As he started toward the opposite end of the clearing, Lindir approached his new friend.

"Are you sure you're fine with this, Mel? If not we can still call it off..."

"I'll be fine, don't worry." He answered with a weak smile. "You should go. your partner is waiting for you."

Lindir squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before tearing off at top speed toward the forest. Melpomaen remained standing for a moment, wondering what he was supposed to do, before going to seat on the nearest boulder. He didn't feel quite as confident as he wanted his friend to believe. After all, if Lindir was so concerned, there must be a good reason. He watched with mounting anxiety as the two assailants concealed themselves in the tall grass, obviously planning to surprise the other team. There was a gleam in Faevreg's eyes that made him shivered. The tall elfling was so intent on making the ambush a success that for the first time that afternoon he managed to remain motionless and not to betray his position.

After what seemed like hours to the brown haired child but was probably only a few minutes, the envoys appeared. They walked slowly, cautiously looking right and left in hope to find where the other two were hidden. He shivered. He had seen this kind of behaviour only once before, during the journey from Mirkwood. Their escort had been tense, peering at the canopy with their bows half drawn, arrows notched. "Spiders" had whispered one of the guards when he had asked what they were looking for. He had been terrified of course. Ellyth told their children tales of the horrifying beasts to scare them into submission. How many time had he heard that if he didn't behave, they would sneak into his room and take him away? And of course, there had been his father… but they had been lucky and made it out of the darkening forest unscathed.

Lindir and Vellthand had just reached the middle of the clearing when growls were heard. The grass rustled around them with the movements of the assailants closing up on them. They remained hidden from view though, circling the now unmoving pair. The two turned back to back, obviously intending on defending themselves against their foes. The growls intensified.

Suddenly, Faevreg leaped at Lindir and tumbled the smaller elfling to the ground while Thalaind lunged at Vellthand's throat. The two grappled at each other's cloth, trying to down their opponent in a flurry of fists and kicks. On the left Lindir righted himself up, having momentarily bested Faevreg, and turned to help his partner.

"Don't, Lindir, just go! One of us has to finish the mission. Run for home!"

Lindir froze on his tracks. He hesitated for a split second before sprinting in the other direction. He didn't go far though. He had barely managed to take five steps when he was tackled to the ground once more.

"Stop it!"

The high pitched voice rang through the air and shattered the players' concentration. Vellthand and Thalaind immediately let go of each other to turn toward the speaker.

"Please, stop it…"

The call came again, trailing off barely above a whisper. The other two stood up and looked at the fifth member of their group. Melpomaen had drawn his knees to his chest and encircled them with his arms, clutching them tightly. He was rocking himself slowly, his eyes drawn shut and his breathing ragged. Lindir's heart clenched when he saw how frightened his new friend was. He approached cautiously, not wanting to scare him any further and the others followed him a few steps behind. The precaution proved unnecessary however as it soon became clear that the child was completely unaware of his surroundings. Trapped in his own waking nightmare, he was muttering rapidly under his breath, too low for the others to catch his words.

"Mel?" Lindir called softly.

If he heard, he gave no sign of it. His friend called him again, louder this time, but to no avail. The white haired elfling reached for his shoulder with the intention to shake him out of his trance. He didn't have to though. As soon as his hand touched him, Melpoamen released a high pitched scream and bolted, right into Thalaind. The cabinetmaker's son recovered quickly from the shock and enfolded the now trashing child in a tight hug.

"It's alright, Mel, every thing is fine. Look, we stopped, we aren't fighting anymore. No one was hurt!"

Slowly the frantic litany seemed to break through his daze. The blue eyes opened slowly and looked around in confusion, terror still clearly visible in them.

"You are safe, there is nothing to be afraid of." Thalaind continued to sooth the trembling form in his arms.

After a while, the fear receded at last.

"Better?" The elder elf asked.

Melpomaen nodded and their three companions let out a collective sigh of relief. The anxiety attack had really scared them. They had felt so helpless!

"Please don't do that again… It's… It's so wrong!" The Sylvan whispered.

"Come on now, Mel," Faevreg laughed, ignoring the warning looks the others were throwing at him. The whole situation had scared him and his frayed nerves made him even more reckless than he usually was. "It's just a harmless game!"

At those words, Melpomaen untangled himself from Thalaind's embrace and took a step back so that he could look at them all at once. His usually timid gaze had suddenly turned into an icy glare.

"It's not a game!" He screamed. "This is real! People are dying! You have no right to make fun of this!"

It was Faevreg's turn to have his expression become cold as steel at the perceived slight. How dare this child tell him what he could and couldn't do? He was barely out of his mother's skirts! He should be grateful to have been included in their games and not question their actions, much less try to tell him off!

"You're just a baby, you don't know anything." He replied, his voice dripping with malice. "You don't know how to have fun! Maybe that's why Lindir had to bring you here. He took pity on you and let you tag along. He always had a soft spot for sad little puppies. He must have seen how alone you were and thought he was doing a good deed. And why would you not be alone? There is no way someone would ever want to stay with you!"

"Faevreg, that's enough!" Vellthand exclaimed, horrified at the hurtful words coming from his friend's mouth.

But is was too late, the damage was done. Melpomaen's face paled and infinite sorrow mixed with self recrimination contorted his features.

"Mel…" Lindir started. He didn't get the chance to continue though.

Before any of them could react, the Sylvan had pivoted on his heels and dashed toward the trees. By the time the shock wore off, he had already disappeared into the forest.

"You…. You asshole! How dare you say such a thing to him!" Lindir launched himself at Faevreg's throat.

"I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!" He panicked, trying to fend off his attacker. "I don't know what came over me! Please believe me!"

The elder elves quickly separated them. They had to restrain Lindir for a while to prevent him from attacking again. When he finally managed to reign his anger, he let himself drop to the ground, burying his face in his hands. The others exchanged concerned glances. Lindir had always been the calmest of them all. He was sweet tempered and almost never became angry. To have him lash out in such a fashion to say the least unnerving.

"What am I going to do? He was entrusted to me." He moaned, still not looking up. "I can't even go after him, I'd never find him and would probably end up lost myself…"

"It's alright, Lindir, he can't have gone far." Vellthand tried to reassure him. "I'm sure he'll come back as soon as he calms down. Don't worry."

Lindir reluctantly agreed. There was nothing he could do anyway. They started to play again but in a much more subdued manner. Their heart wasn't into it. All of them worried over the small missing elfling. Hours ebbed away slowly and soon it was time to go home. Melpomaen still hadn't returned.

"Do you recon he could have gone back on his own?" Faevreg asked in a small voice.

"I don't think so." Lindir replied, despair overcoming him. "It's the first time he has come around here, even if he made it out of the forest, he could never have found his way back."

"Let's just check anyway." Vellthand suggested, concern written all over his face. "There is nothing else we can do. If he isn't back, then we can raise the alarm."

* * *

><p>Melpomaen sat at the base of a tall pine. He had walked for hours through the forest, too lost in his own memories to pay attention to where he was going. Now that the light was growing dim, he realized the folly of his acts. He had no idea of where he was, not even the slightest insight of the direction he had come from. All he could see was trees and bushes everywhere. Even if their voices betrayed no concern and conveyed their sense of security, they weren't of any comfort to him. None of them had ever seen anything but the forest around them. They had seen elves occasionally, but they had been few and far between, mostly warriors on patrol or hunters looking for some game. At least he was still in the hidden valley.<p>

He had made a mistake in believing he could fit with other children. He had felt so close to Lindir, and had so much fun at first that he had thought they would be able to get along. How wrong he had been! They didn't know. They hadn't heard the screams of pain, had never smelt the stench of death nor seen every one they knew fall under the blows of nightmarish creatures. They did not understand. This game of theirs and Faevreg's reaction just proved that he couldn't relax his guard around them. Which meant that he couldn't trust them. And if he could not trust them, how could they be friend? It was better to remain alone.

Tired and hungry he curled up against the trunk, relishing in the familiarity of the coarse bark against his back, and let the murmur of the forest lull him to sleep.

He woke up with a start. Night had fallen while he slumbered and everything was silent. Even the trees had stopped talking. Confusion and fear warred in his mind. For the first time in his young life the forest seemed ominous. The lack of sound unnerved him. Even during the attack he had felt safe with the tall guardians. The elm had sung to him all night long, trying to assuage his fears, assuring him that the foul beasts of Morgoth weren't coming any closer. Nothing had prepared him for this silence. He tried to reach out to them but they didn't answer. He had never felt so alone.

A soft rustling of leaves to his right caught his attention. Frightened, he pressed himself closer to the pine, trying to make himself as small as possible, hoping he wouldn't be noticed. The trees would warn him if he was in danger, wouldn't they? But they weren't talking to him anymore. What if they too had abandoned him?

A soft glow started to filter through the leaves and seconds later a tall form emerged from the thicket. He raised his hand to protect his eyes from the light that blinded them.

"Mel?" A familiar voice called.

He slowly lowered his hand and raised his head to look at the elf that stood before him. Grey eyes peered at him with concern under dishevelled midnight hair. Melpomaen remained motionless for a minute before launching himself into the arms of the ellon, almost knocking the torch right out of his hand.

"Ada!" He cried. Tears started to roll down his cheeks as he buried his face in Cuthalion's neck. The warrior released a sigh of relief at finding his son unharmed and held him to his chest. When his wife had ran to him as he had returned from patrol earlier that evening, sobbing, telling him that Melpomaen had disappeared, he had feared for the worse. Glorfindel, who had been awaiting his second's report, had immediately organized search parties and Cuthalion had followed the elfling to the last place they had seen his son. He had easily picked up his trail and followed it ever since.

"Shush, ion nin, it's alright now, I have you. Everything will be fine. I promise. Let me take you home."

* * *

><p><strong>Elvish translations:<strong>

_Elfling - elf child  
>Ellyth - female elves<br>Ellon - male elf  
>Ada - father<br>ion nin - my son_

_Siniathcyll - "news bearer" (name of the game). I made up that one, I was looking for "envoy" or "messenger" but couldn't find anything. If anyone wants to provide a better translation, you're more than welcomed!_

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><p><em>That's all for today, hope you enjoyed it! I'll try to post the next chapter by sunday (0715/2012) at the latest._

_Again, please review! It's really rewarding when someone takes the time to leave a comment!_


	6. A whole new world

_Hi!_

_I know I'm late updating, but I fell sick. Between that and reworking the first chapter (to correct the inconsistencies in Elrond's behavior), I guess I just got overwhelmed. Hopefully it will be good enough to make up for the wait, though I'm not convinced given how uninspired I was for over half of it... It took me over twelve hours to finish. It's now almost 4 a. m. but I really wanted to have it up tonight. So... Enjoy !_

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><p><strong>A whole new world<strong>

After that incident, Melpomaen stayed clear of other elflings and his parents didn't try to push him again. Gwenfael's relief upon seeing him return in her husband's arms had been short-lived as it soon had become clear that the whole had had the opposite consequences of what she had hoped to achieve. True, Melpomaen was no longer shy in front of strangers. He was no longer in front of strangers at all. Every time someone visited, he rushed to his bedroom and hid there until they were gone. If the visitors tried to seek him there, he dove under the bed, keeping close to the wall and pretended not to notice the other. This was what had happened when Velaer has come with Lindir to apologize. The elfling had been consumed by remorse over his failure to keep Melpomaen safe. Seeing how badly affected the child was had torn at his heart. He had left the cottage crying in his mother's arms.

Gwenfael's guilt was overwhelming. It had been her decision to leave Melpomaen alone in the first place. and she blamed herself for all that happened. If she hadn't been so selfish! She never should have left him, especially not for such a trivial reason. She had apologized over and over to Cuthalion, begging his forgiveness for having failed him so badly. He had tried to assuage her fears, assuring her there was nothing to forgive, but she wouldn't listen. It was with a heavy heart that he left at the end of the week to return to the border.

In her husband's absence, Gwenfael's self-recriminations reached a new height. She refused to let anyone enter their house and stopped to go outside. Nenorui came several time, begging her to open the door, but in vain. The blond elleth simply sat on her chair and ignored her friend completely. She spent all her time taking care of her child, playing with him, helping him practice his reading... To Melpomaen, this was heaven. He had his nanneth all to himself and he was delighted that she wanted him close. He had been terrified that she wouldn't love him anymore because he failed to make new friends as she had wanted.

Cuthalion's concern over his return was great though. Gwenfael hadn't gone to the market even to buy food and, though their supply of dried meat had held throughout his absence, the same couldn't be said of vegetables and fruits. Apparently his wife had decided to forgo them entirely and they had been living of whatever dried preserves had been stored in the attic. When he tried to call her upon this, she simply replied that she would go in the morning, now that he was there to take care of Melpomaen.

As soon as she had left, he sought out his son.

"Mel, I need to talk to you." He called for the door. The elfling looked up from his book and turned toward him.

"Yes ada?" Cuthalion crossed the room quickly and seated himself on the bed

"Come and sit with me." He said, patting the covers beside him. The youth shuffled to his feet and sat on the indicated spot, before turning curious eyes toward his father.

"It's about your nanneth. I'm sure you have noticed how strange she acted lately."

"Strange?"

"She has not left the house in my absence, has she?" Melpomaen averted his eyes, looking slightly guilty.

"She promised she would stay with me..."

"And stay with you she has." He put his hand under the elfling's chin and made him rise his head again. "But it cannot continue this way." Timid blue eyes met his own steady gray ones.

"Why?"

"Because she needs to buy food, cloths... and it's not healthy to always stay cloistered inside the house."

"You mean... You want her to leave me alone again." The tone was defeated.

"No, Mel, I wouldn't do that to you, and Gwenfael would never agree even if I suggested it. Mel," he sighted, "your nanneth and I love you, we would never do anything to hurt you intentionally, I hope you know that."

"I know ada." The child reached out and encircled his waist, resting his against his father's chest. Cuthalion stayed like that for a few minutes hugging his elfling close. "If you don't want her to leave me," he started in an unsteady voice, "then what?"

"I want you to go with her."

"I... I can't." It hurt to see the sparkle go out in those deep azure sea pools. Melpomaen had already given up. "I don't want to meet people."

"And you don't have to." He slowly rubbed the small shivering back. "I just want you to go with her. You don't need to talk to anyone, to even look at anyone. I just want you to accompany her, that's all."

"I'm not sure I can... I'm sorry, ada, I'm just scared."

"Why don't we give it a try? We'll go together. No pressure. If it doesn't work, we won't talk about it again, alright?"

"Alright... I'll try..."

* * *

><p>The market place was bustling with activity. Products of every kind almost toppled from the stands they were displayed on and a crowd of onlookers were shuffling between the stalls. The merchants were displaying their wares on trestles, holding out shawls of the finest silk out for inspection while on the food corner trappers and fishermen called out in gruff voices, vaunting their merchandise attributes. Greengrocers and cereals venders were quieter, simply haggling over the price with the buyers in quiet tones.<p>

Melpomaen clutched his father's hand with all his might. Everywhere he looked, there were people. People of a kind he had never seen before. The males were hairy, uncouth and seemed primitive to his eyes. The were dressed in coarse looking, tanned leather trousers and tunic under roughly spun cloaks. The females were little better with their unadorned dresses of shoddy canvass and dirty, matted hair. But what caught his attention were their faces. These were so different from the elven faces he had seen all his life. They were marked, furrowed and burnt brown from the elements.

"Who are they?" He whispered, tugging at Cuthalion's sleeve. The ellon followed his son's gaze and smiled.

"They are traders. They come in every thursday, bringing fresh products, every thing we cannot or do not want to produce ourselves."

"No, I mean, what are they?"

"Oh!" Cuthalion suddenly understood. "They are humans. Second borns."

"They seem..." He tried to come up with a term that wasn't insulting. "Strange." His eyes stopped on a woman with deep lines on her brow, at the corner of her eyes and around her mouth. She looked like a carving on the bark of an oak. "Why is her face like this? Why is her hair white?"

"That's because she is old."

"You are old, Lord Elrond is old, but you don't look like that."

"Humans don't get old the same way we do, ion nin, they... age." He struggled to find an explanation that would make sense to the child, without having to bring back dreadful memories. Suddenly, it struck him. "In the same way that animals do. Like the birds and squirrels at home."

"So they are animals?"

"Well..." This was getting more awkward by the minute. "They are not exactly animals, they think and speak like we do, they are intelligent... somewhat." He added when he saw one of them demonstrate the sharpness of an elaborately carved knife, and cut himself in the process. Melpoamen chuckled when he saw what his ada was looking at but soon his eyes trailed back to the old woman. She had taken the shawl she had been spinning from the wheel and was slipping it through a small golden ring.

"What is she doing?" He asked curiously.

"She is from the Brown Lands. Her people are nomadic. Her family came across the mountains some twenty years ago and settled not far from here. It's a custom of theirs. A good shawl has to be so finely made that it can fit through their wedding ring. She is demonstrating the quality of her products."

"Hey Cuthalion!" A cheerful voice called out from the far end of the market. Said elf turned to greet the newcomer while Melpomaen cowered behind his broader form. A tall blond ellon was striding toward them. The sun shone on his hair, creating golden halo around his head. But the brightest light seemed to radiate from his very form.

"Lord Glorfindel! What can I do for you today?"

"Well, I never had a chance to debrief you on your last patrol. Lithônion handled the report but I'd still like to have your opinion. He mentioned..." Cuthalion cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry my lord but could we discuss this later?" He nodded toward the brown haired child peaking out from behind his back.

"Is that... Melpomaen isn't it? It's been a long time little one. How are you doing?" He asked, crouching to meet the child's eyes.

"Mel, ion nin, do you remember lord Glorfindel?" Melpomaen nodded. How could he forget?

"Still not talking, I see. That much hasn't changed." He joked. "Really, penneth, I'm offended. I had more of an effect on you when we first met. You seemed more interested in me then."

"I'm sorry." It was barely more than a whisper.

"So you do talk!" Exclaimed Glorfindel with a huge smile. "And you have such a sweet voice. I hope to hear it more often." Melpomaen blushed fiercely under the compliment. "Is it your first time at the market Melpomaen?"

"Yes."

"And do you like it here?" The seneschal was undeterred by the monosyllabic reply.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Glorfindel feigned surprise. "Why is that?"

"We just arrived. I haven't seen much of it."

"I understand." The reborn hero acquiesced. "Anything that caught your attention so far?"

"Them. The... Humans... They are..." He didn't have time to finish his thought as an angry shout interrupted him.

"Thal! What are you doing here?" Cutalion jumped at being called out a second time. He wheeled around just in time to see an irate Gwenfael storm toward him. She stopped in front of him, her shopping basket held against one hip and her right hand perched on the other. "You said you'd look after Mel!"

"Gwen? I..."

"I can't believe you left him!"

"Please, meleth,..."

"Don't meleth me now! How could you? You know we can't leave him alone!"

Glorfindel stood up slowly and raised an eyebrow at the scene. Passerby were starting to gather around them, wondering what the commotion was. Gwenfael was getting more and more worked up by the moment. The blond warrior turned a pointed look at the child who seemed frozen on the spot, still half hidden behind his father.

"Nanna, I'm here." He said in a small trembling voice.

"Not now Mel, I... Mel! What are you doing here?" She knelt beside him and engulfed him in a tight hug. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine nanna, really. Ada just wanted to show me the market and lord Glorfindel is nice."

"Lord..." She turned her head and noticed for the first time that they weren't alone. Seeing how many people surrounded them, she had the decency to blush. She rose quickly, never letting go of her son, and bowed to the elf lord.

"Please, Gwenfael, no need to bow to me. How about we move to a more private setting?"

* * *

><p>They had gone home later that day after a drink in the barracks. Glorfindel had chatted with Melpomaen for the whole time while Gwenfael and Cuthalion sorted their issues. From then on, things only got better. They settled back in their quiet life rhythm and nothing came to disturb it for a while. Cuthalion went back on patrol and Gwenfael and Melpomaen visited the market every week to acquire fresh supplies. The elfling didn't talk to anyone though. Apart from lord Elrond and lord Glorfindel, he was still unwilling to open to anyone outside of his family.<p>

Apart from those weekly outings, nothing had changed at the cottage. Melpomaen returned to his beloved books and kept to himself. However he quickly became frustrated with his small collection which he had read countless times. He understood from the tags he had seen on the stalls that books were expensive and couldn't be purchased in amounts large enough to keep up with his unquenchable thirst for knowledge but that didn't stop him from wishing from more. As days passed without anything new to distract him, he grew restless. He spent hours wandering around the cottage aimlessly. Soon Gwenfael could take it no more and one evening during dinner, just as Cuthalion came back from the border, she confronted him.

"This can't go on, Melpomaen!" She exclaimed.

"Nanna?" He asked innocently.

"Don't play coy with me, child. You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. You have been brooding for months!"

"Have not!"

"Yes you have. I swear you are going to pace your way right through the floor if you keep it up!"

"What are you talking about, meleth?" asked Cuthalion. "Did something happen while I was on patrol?"

"I wished! Nothing happened, he walks around all day doing nothing!"

"Calm down, Gwen, no need to get upset. I'm sure Mel has a good reason for it."

"Easy for you to say, you are not the one who has to watch him all day." she grumbled.

"Come on, ion nin, tell me what bothers you."

"I'm fine, it's nothing."

"It's definitely not 'nothing' if it has you so agitated. You know you can tell us anything, right?"

Now Melpomaen was clearly uncomfortable. He didn't want to tell his ada he wanted more books because they couldn't afford them and it would make him sad to have to refuse him, but he also couldn't keep silent because it would mean he didn't trust him and that would hurt the older elf deeply. Lying wasn't an option either because his nanneth would see right through it. Somehow she always knew when he tried to hide the truth. Making up his mind, he whispered.

"I don't know what to do. I have read all my books over and over again, even borrowed nanna's cook book, and I have nothing left to read. I'm sorry, I know I'm selfish and..."

"Wait, wait, wait!" his father interrupted. "You are apologizing because you are... bored?"

The elfling blushed fiercely at this and bowed his head in shame. Cuthalion was stunned. So this was all this was about? He exchanged a glance with his wife who was just equally astonished. They had never thought that their child would get bored! But was it really so surprising? After all, he spent all his days reading, he was bound to exhaust his supply sometime. How could they not have foreseen this?

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gwenfael asked. "We could have gone and buy you a new book!"

But Melpomaen shook his head.

"I didn't want to bother you and besides, it would only postpone the problem: I would read it and in a week it would start all over again."

"What about the library?" suggested his father. "I believe it would keep you busy for a while."

"What is a library, ada?"

"It's a place where all sorts of books are gathered and you can read them as long as you don't take them outside."

"Lots of books?"

"More than you can imagine, ion nin."

"Can we go?"

"Ask your nanneth."

"Nanna? Please! Can we go to the library? Please please please!"

"Alright, you little 'sulker'. We'll go on tomorrow."

"Can't we go now?" Melpomaen was almost jumping on his seat from impatience.

"It's night, Mel, much to late to get there now. Believe me, the book will still be there tomorrow."

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><p>The next morning found the little family standing in front of the intricate vine design carved on the tall ash doors of Imladris public library. Melpomaen had risen before the sun and it had taken all of his parents persuasion to keep him still long enough to eat breakfast. The elfling had bounced up and down, trying to get both elves to hurry. He had been so eager to go that they had reached the main house shortly after eight, while most were still sitting at the breakfast table.<p>

They took a few step inside before Melpomaen stopped. He looked all around him with eyes as huge as saucers going from one aisle to another, raking over row after row of books and scrolls stacked up to the high vaulted ceiling. His whole face lit up. His breath caught in his throat as his heart sped up with emotion. This place was a dream come true, enough knowledge to last him for years, centuries maybe. It was as if he had stepped into a whole new world, a magical new world where he would never get bored again.

A scrawny chestnut haired elf directed them toward the children corner. This was the most inviting part of the library, with smaller bookcases that reached only up to a grown elf's breast, forming a half circle around the marble chimney. A fire screen bolted to the floor protected elflings from heat and prevented them from getting to close to the flames. Soft thick rugs covered the wooden floor and fluffy pillows formed comfortable low sofas. No one lounged there at the time but it looked very cozy, designed just to make the little guests they were intended for at ease.

Melpomaen felt like he was walking on air. After getting permission from his mother, he rushed toward the closest shelf, picked up a big book of tales and plopped down on the cushions. He immediately became so engrossed in the beautiful drawings illustrating the stories that he could barely tear his eyes away long enough to actually take in the words accompanying them. The world faded around him as his mind filled with images of dragons and warriors in shiny armors.

The day went by in silence. Gwenfael had to drag him out for lunch and he ran back inside as soon as he finished eating. When evening came, it took the promise of coming back on the morrow to get him to leave. On the way home and throughout dinner he kept talking about what he had read and how amazing the place was. Seeing their child so enthusiast was a solace to the couple. They would have preferred for the company of other elflings to have engendered this reaction but any cause for improvement was more than welcomed.

A week passed. On the first few days either Gwenfael or Cuthalion had kept him company but they had soon realized that Melpomaen didn't care either way. Once he was lost in his world of fantasy, nothing else could reach him. He lost all awareness of his surroundings. They had been worried when the first few elflings had come in and tried to talk to him, afraid that they would trigger the Sylvan's fear of strangers. They had observed from their seat at the closest work table, tensing each time a new child approached, but it soon had appeared that their apprehension was unfounded: Melpomaen had been so engrossed in his tales that he never noticed the new arrivals. By the fourth day, word had gone around and they had stopped trying to engage him in a conversation. When his parents had asked if he would be fine by himself, he hadn't protested and had happily shooed them away. He was now free to bury himself in those tales without feeling guilty for keeping them from their own activities. For a while nothing disturbed the peace of the place that was soon becoming his own personal sanctuary. He missed the soothing murmurs of the trees and the wind whispering as it rustled his hair but he could still see the sky if he looked out of one of the multiple windows adorning the eastern wall, and they greeted him each night when Gwenfael picked him up.

One afternoon though raised voices drew him out of perusal of an abridged version of the world's genesis under the care of the Valar. Curious as to who would dare to disturb the usually silent library, he followed the sounds toward the other end of the room. Three ellyn were gathered in the middle of an aisle and were arguing loudly, or rather, one of them was yelling at a shorter one while the third had a look of deep annoyance on his face. A face he recognized immediately. He dove behind the corner as he looked upon the frown that marred the regal features. Flowing blue robes lined with silver embroidery hugged the muscular frame nicely, the black tresses were entwined in the mithril circlet of his station and reached down to the small of his back in a curtain of ebony silk.

"I don't care about your feeble explanations!" The furious shout of the second raven haired ellon startled him out of his contemplation of his childhood hero. "I am looking for a book which is supposed to be stored on THIS shelf according to the index that YOU keep. And which is obviously NOT HERE! The only thing I want to know is: WHERE IS THIS DAMN BOOK?" The tall Noldo started to pace back and forth, black robes billowing in his wake. Melpomaen cowered in his hiding spot at the sight of the raging onyx eyes. "Seriously, are you sure you are the scribe in charge of the inventory? Even an apprentice would do better!"

"Erestor, mellon, please calm down. The book was probably simply misplaced." Elrond tried to pacify the irate adviser. "I'm sure we'll find it eventually."

"Eventually is what happens when no one is in charge of keeping tracks of the books stored in a library, my lord. This little clod is supposed to make sure this doesn't happen. As it is I don't see what he is doing here if he can't get his job done right."

The brown haired scribe seemed to shrink under the endless stream of incrimination continued. The hazel eyes shimmered with tears and he let his head hang low. He looked about to cry when suddenly a kind looking elf in green robes rounded the opposite corner and interrupted the spiteful tirade.

"I believe I can be of assistance, my lords." The new comer said in a smooth voice. "One of our readers returned a book to the main counter this morning. I think it may be the one you are looking for." Lord Elrond let out a sigh of relief and both turned to follow the head librarian. Melpomaen quickly took another aisle to continue to observe his idol, leaving the poor scribe alone to collect himself.

Though the dark councilor filled him with dread, he couldn't help but rejoice at seeing his savior again. He watched as the head librarian handed him him huge blue leather volume and as they exchanged pleasantries on the way out. Since he heard he would be bringing the book back in a few days at the latest, Melpomaen started to keep an ear pointed toward the door, listening for the return of the lord of the valley. He waited from the minute his nanneth left in the morning to the moment she came back to take him home, and his attention eventually paid off. On the third morning the welcomed hushed voice of his hero was once again heard in the library. From then on, his happiness was complete. Though that meant the short-tempered chief adviser visited too, he was glad to be able to give into his adoration whenever the elf lord visited. Between that and the huge supply of tales, he couldn't imagine a better place in the whole Middle-Earth.

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><p><em>Elvish translations:<em>

_Elfling - elf child  
>Elleth - female elf<br>Nanneth - mother  
>Ada - father<br>Ellon (pl. ellyn) - male elf  
>Ion nin - my son<br>Penneth - young one  
>Meleth - love<br>Nanna - mom  
>Mellon - friend<br>_

_Lithônion is the first name I used that I didn't make up myself (by using an english-sindarin dictionary I downloaded). I picked it up on the Arwen Undomiel website. Since I'm home sick and I left the files at work, I couldn't make up a new one... Sorry about that._

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><p><em>Once again, please, review!<em>

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><p><em>Thanks to Sofie for her review, I edited the chapter a bit and hope it's better now. If I missed anything, feel free to tell me and I'll do my best to correct the remaining mistakes!<em>


	7. The scribes' favorite

_Hi!_

_Here is then next chapter. Sorry for the wait, I had started to write more but then it was to much for my phone to handle so once again I had to split a chapter into. Therefore not much happens on this one. But don't worry, the next one is already underway and will be up very soon._

_I'm still looking for a beta (haven't managed to get an answer from those I contacter) so I hope it's still alright. Naturally, All mistakes are entirely my own._

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><p><strong>The scribes' favorite<strong>

The scribes working at the library had grown accustomed to the silent elfling who sat on the rugs in front of the chimney, among heaps of cushions. Every day he came, accompanied by his nanneth or, once in a while, his ada. They would bring him there just after the morning meal, pick him up for a short lunch and then bring him back for the afternoon. He never talked to anyone, just sat quietly engrossed in all manners of tales. After the first day, when he had seemingly pulled random volume out of the nearest shelf, he had started to methodologically read every book in the children section, starting with the top shelf of the bookcase furthest left.

At first they had had reservations about having one so young by himself, fearing he might disturb the peace of their sanctuary. Other children only came once in a while and remained under the watchful eyes of their parents at all time. In fact, they normally didn't allow elflings to stay alone. The oldest of them remembered all too well the last time boys had come to the library unsupervised and shuddered still at the memory. The chaos that had ensued had been monumental and the tales were passed down to the younger scribes who hoped to never have to face such a calamity.

The twin sons of lord Elrond had never taken too well to be cooped up inside. As their station demanded however, they had been required to spend long hours studying, acquiring the knowledge they would need, should they one day have to step into their father's shoes. Those lessons had been personally handled by the valley's stern chief councillor, who had none too eagerly abandoned some of his most trivial duties to take charge of the elflings' education. And what better place to learn the lore of their people than the largest library middle earth had to offer? There, in a secluded alcove far from the prying eye, they had sat together while he taught them relentlessly, hours at times.

The peredhil had taken an instant dislike in their lessons. Not only did they prevent them to spend time playing outside, but Erestor was a very exigent teacher. He demanded their full attention during those classes and dealt harsh reprimands should they falter, which they naturally did fairly often as mouldy tomes and long forgotten realms held no interest to their young minds. Not only did they have to bear his scalding remarks whenever they let their thoughts wander off to more pleasant subjects, but he also gave them extensive tong lashings each time their tests scores failed to meet his requirements. He would grill them at least trice a week on the most insignificant topic and inaccurate answers were punished by additional hours in the library, going over the subject again and again until they could have recited the lesson in their sleep.

Naturally, being their usual rowdy self, the twins had sought to retaliate. They had at the time still been too scared of the raven haired Noldo to dare anything against him directly, so they had turned their resentment toward the place of their suffering. It had begun innocently enough. They had started to come to the library after lunch, a time they usually spent playing before Glorfindel fetched them for their afternoon lessons, pleading homework that they needed to do some research for. The head librarian had directed them to the requested section, not thinking anything about it, and for a while, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary.

Days had passed and books had started to go missing. Some had turned up in the most unlikely sections of the library, an account of the fall of Nargothrond had ended up between two potion volumes, and gardening manuals had found their way to the top of case on the geography of the Undying Lands, while others had disappeared entirely. Still, no one had suspected the two elflings sitting quietly at their usual table, apparently taking notes from a huge compilation of the history of Numénor. After all, if they had taken books, surely they would have started with the ones they were supposed to study, to get out of their lessons.

The scribes had been frantic. They had tried to keep the library in order, rearranging shelves after shelves, but as soon as they had moved to a new section, the scoundrel had messed up the previous one once more and they had had to start all over again. Readers were starting to complain. The chief councillor had of course flown into one of his infamous rages each time a book he happened to look for couldn't be found, lashing out at whomever had the misfortune to be working at the time. Even the usually placid Lord Elrond had voiced his displeasure at the state of things. They had watched the visitors like hawks, hoping to catch the culprit, but in vain. No book had ever left the library and no one had seemed to intentionally misplace them. It had been maddening.

The twins of course had been delighted. Emboldened by their success, they had decided to take their pranks to the next level. Quills, parchments and ink had been their next target. One afternoon, the head librarian had suddenly found the supply cupboard empty. They had combed through the place, interrogated all presents but once again failed to recover the missing items. By then they had alerted their lord of the presence of a thief in the palace. The Last Homely House had been searched from top to bottom, without success. No one had seen any of them, until the stolen artefacts had started to turn up seemingly on their own in the most unlikely part of the library. Ink welts had appeared precariously perched on top ladders, waiting to fall on the head of the unsuspecting elf that would move them, chairs and bench had been stained, while the rest had remained unaccounted.

It still hadn't been enough. One morning, as the clerk in charge had come to open the library, he had found the door stuck. The key had turned just fine and he had heard the clicking of the fine mechanism, the handle went down but the huge leaf refused to bulge. He had had to slam his shoulder against the carved panels several times before the ash doors had opened at last. As he had straightened himself on the threshold, he had suddenly been assailed by a flapping mass of black feathers. The poor elf had cried out in alarm and immediately raised his arms to protect his head, dropping to the floor to escape the beating wings. People had come rushing through the corridor, wondering what had caused the disturbance. They had all frozen on their tracks at the scene, shocked to find a large crow attacking the terrified librarian. Glorfindel had been the first to recover and had shooed the raven away. The tall bird had uttered an angry caw before flying out above his head.

"What in Mordor is going on here?" Elrond's voice had boomed from behind the gathered elves.

Many had jumped at the furious tone. The crowd had instantly parted to allow their lord access to the front. He had made to speak again but before he had had time to demand an explanation, the deafening racket of crashing earthenware had resounded. It had been immediately followed by the terrified cackles of a dozen hens that had tried to flee the commotion, by running straight at the stunned elves standing in the doorway.

A muffled giggle behind them had broken them out of their trance. The assembled household had wheeled around to meet with a stunning sight. The twins had found the incident so hilarious that they had both doubled over in silent laugher, holding their side as their ribs hurt and tears in their eyes. It had all suddenly clicked together in everyone's mind. The misplaced books, the stolen items, the 'accidents', everything made sense. How they could have missed this, they hadn't had the slightest idea but once the truth had been revealed, Elrond's anger had been terrible. He had advanced toward his still chortling sons, his wrath clearly written on his noble face. Without a word, he had grabbed the collar of their tunics and dragged them toward his office before anyone had time to process what had happened.

This had put an end to the poor scribes' torments. The two miscreants had been properly chastised, part of their punishment consisting in assisting the scribes until the library was back in order. No elfling had ever been allowed alone in the library after that and even now the twins were still eyed warily whenever they came in, though they had made amends over the years. How they had ever manage to pull such stunts however, they had never said.

As such, it was easy to understand the scribes' apprehensions. . When Gwenfael had come to the head librarian asking him if he would mind keeping an eye on the youngling while she went on an errand, his first thought had been to refuse forthright. He had seen the pleading look the elleth gave him though and had found himself unable to deny her request. He had accepted reluctantly but warned every scribe in the library to keep an eye on him. Their distrustful gaze followed the oblivious blond elfling wherever he went, never allowing him out of their sight

After that, the child was left alone in their midst almost every single day. At the beginning,, they had wanted to remind Gwenfael that it had been a one time deal and that she should take the elfling along when she left, but it was so endearing to see him shuffle around carrying piles of volumes that often reached above his head that they very soon grew fond of him. His mother often asked if he had disturbed them in anyway, which they always promptly denied. In fact, after the first few times, her concerned questions became far more annoying that the occasionally forgotten book.

Despite their earlier misgivings, Melpomaen never caused any trouble. He continued to quietly make his way through the children section, progressing at an ever increasing pace as his reading abilities developed. They observed this fact with amusement and it quickly became a contest among them to guess how far he would have come at the end of the day. Three months after his first visit, he reached the halfway mark of the considerable collection.

Though they were glad to see a young one that shared their love for the written knowledge, they grew concerned that this silent companionship would not last. New books rarely made their way to the children corner as the section was mostly supplied by donations from parents whose child had outgrown them. With so few elfings in the valley, these gifts had become increasingly rare. At the rate the little one was reading, he would be through the entire collection before another two moons had waxed. He would then probably stop to come as there would be nothing left for him to do there. Even worse, he might be disappointed that the library failed to provide him with new material. The scribes had come to love the silent presence in their midst and were at loath to part with him. They had to find a solution.

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><p>All the while Melpomaen remained blissfully unaware of the scrutiny he was the object of. This was lucky, for, had he felt the eyes that followed him all day long, he probably would have been terrified and would have never dared to set foot in the library again. As it was, he was still filled with such a wonder by the place that he probably wouldn't have noticed an <em>annabon<em> tapping at the window. He kept devouring tale after tale, only pausing to take a peek at his hero during his regular visits.

There were some days though when the youngling stayed away from the magical room. Whenever Cuthalion was on leave, usually for a few days at the end of each month, he would forgo his lengthy trip to make the most of his ada's company and undivided attention. During those times, they would quietly enjoy a game of chess on the kitchen floor, amidst the sounds and mouth watering smells of Gwenfael's cooking, until she laughingly pushed them out, so that they wouldn't be under her feet all the time.

The two of them would then rush to the clearing. There he raven haired ellon would try to teach his son a few defensive moves, hoping to spark his interest in military training and so that they could one day spar together. Melpomaen humoured him, glad to simply be able to spend time with him, but never really liked those sessions. Though his father never showed any frustration, he knew he was failing to meet his expectations. The elfling hated physical activities, the sweat that clung to his body and the drained feeling afterward. He was often so tired at night hat he would practically fell asleep on the diner table. Worse was the fact that, despite his best efforts, he never managed to reproduce his father's moves. His balance was awful and his hand eye coordination practically inexistent. Still he persevered, always trying to make his ada proud. Needless say that Cuthalion's return to the border always brought some measure of relief, along with the heartache of the parting.

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><p>Elrond leaned against the shelves in the aisle ext to the children section. From where he stood, he had a clear view of the brown haired elfling lying on his stomach on the soft rugs in front of the chimney. The day was warm and no fire had been lit in the hearth. The window in the corner provided enough light so the torches had been put out too. The soft rays of the morning sun caressed the small form as he lazily reached to turn yet another page.<p>

The child's movement were subdued and his eyes moved slowly along the finely written lines, holding none of their usual eagerness. The elflord had been looking for a volume on the customs of the Rohirrim, expecting a delegation of their people later this week, when Melpomaen had come in, accompanied by his foster father. He had immediately noticed the young one sadness and decided to observe him for a while. The elfling had stood in the central aisle for a while after Cuthalion had left, seemingly lost in his thoughts, before shaking himself off his inner musing and picking a lengthy volume of Numenorean stories.

Elrond had easily identified the reason for his distress. Each time the warrior was due back on patrol, the blue eyes grew sad and worried. His mood usually lifted after a day or two once he settled back in his routine. Elrond was almost glad for the display, it proved that the elfling had truly become attached to his adoptive family. This was the first step toward a normal life and he was relieved that he had abandoned his childish infatuation. As a healer, he knew this was an essential step toward recovery, he needed to relinquish his hold on the terrible memories Not that he would ever forget! Those events would be part of him for ever. But maybe, just maybe, he would be fine.

As he turned away from the young Sylvan, his mind wandered to their fateful encounter that day. He shivered as he thought about what could have happened, had he not run that way in his desperate flight from the carnage. The child would never have been found, they wouldn't have known to look for him. And then... He shook his head resolutely pushing away the dreadful images his mind had conjured. Melpomaen was hale, as much as he could be given his past and there was no need to worry himself to death with 'what ifs?'. He concentrated instead on the fond memories of their early day together. He had been so happy to once more have an elfling to care for! The sudden pang of loneliness in his heart took him by surprise. It was so strong! Close to what he felt when his wife and daughter left to dwell with his in-laws in the golden wood for decades at the time. He hadn't realized how attached he had grown to the child and now that he was paying him seemingly no attention at all, the sense of abandonment was overwhelming.

With a weary sigh, the old elflord made his way back to his study in hope to bury his aching heart under his work.

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><p><strong>Elvish translations:<strong>

_Elfling - elf-child  
>Nanneth - mother<br>Ada - father  
>Peredhel (pl. peredhil) - half-elf<br>Elleth - female elf  
>Annabon - oliphaunt<br>Ellon - male elf_

_Nargothrond: Elven stronghold that fell during the first age._

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><p><em>Well, that's it for chapter 7. I hope you'll enjoy it. Please leave a review!<em>


	8. Taming the dragon

_Hi everyone!_

_Here is the 8th part of the story at last. A bit latter than I had hoped and still in need of proof reading (you've been warned - I'll do it this weekend) but here it is, the longest chapter so far!_

_Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Taming the dragon<strong>

Summer had slowly turned to autumn and the days grew colder. The first gushes of rain had turned the paths of the valley into mud streams while gushes of cold wind rattled the shutters of the Last Homely House. Inside the library, little had changed though. Fire now burned in the tall chimney and the lamp had been lit, giving the usually intimidating room a warm and cozy atmosphere. There the harshness of the elements mattered little to those who delighted in the music of written words.

Melpomaen of course was one of them. Each and every day he begged his mother to take yet another trip to the main house, uncaring about the difficulties of such a journey. She had tried to deny him first, but after a day of being cooped up in the small cottage, the elfling had turned moody and depressed. He had spent the afternoon looking out of the window toward the descending sun, where he knew his beloved sanctuary laid. The whole evening had gone by in utter silence. Diner had been a grim business, none of them saying a word while he had pushed his food around his plate, never saying a word. Only when she had relented, unable to bear the sight any longer, had Melpomaen started to eat. An ecstatic smile had graced his face and he had jumped for his chair to hug his nanneth.

After that, there was no talk of staying home anymore. Though Gwenfael never failed to suggest it, it was only to remind her son that it was an option he might choose. He would then look at her with those huge shimmering eyes and it was enough to make her drop the subject. She would saddle her faithful mare and venture outside into the ever worsening weather. Only on one matter she would not bend: The journey would be made in daylight or not at all. Melpomaen chaffed at this restriction. As the days grew shorter and shorter with the approaching winter, he resented that his time at the library was so severely restricted. Of course he understood the necessity of such a rule but that still didn't make it any easier to bear.

This curbing of his reading hours brought forth an unexpected, but most welcomed outcome. Even with his ever increasing reading pace, the rate at which he devoured the books in the children corner started to decrease. By the end of October, there was still an entire case he hadn't touched. He attacked it with a renewed dread. This was the last one. What would he do after that? He supposed ha could start all over again but after so many months of constant discoveries, it was hard to return to the old pattern of boredom. He tried to pace himself to make the remaining books last longer and truly succeeded with help of the lengthening night. A whole month passed before he at last put back the last volume.

When the day came that Melpomaen found himself once again out of new book to read, the scribes were ready. Ever since they had noticed the steady progress the child had been making through the their collection of tales, they had been tossing ideas around as how to keep their little guest occupied and had finally devised a way to spark up his interest. As he stood in the middle of the children's corner, wondering what to do next for he wasn't allowed to read books from the adult sections, much to his regret for they were so much bigger and looked so interesting, one of the youngest scribes approached him.

"Hello, little one! I'm Aewgail. How are you today?" he asked in a cheerful voice.

Melpomaen's first reaction was to run and hide in his mother's skirts but he belatedly remembered that she had long left to visit with the seamstresses. No one had tried to talk to him since those first few days when he had brushed off the other children's attempts to befriend him. He wondered if this tactic would work on the ellon before him and decided to try and ignore him. Perhaps if he received no answer, he too would go away.

The young scribe however was persistent. He was adamant not to lose the elfling and would be shaken off so easily. He plopped down on the soft rugs in front of him so that they could be at eyes level, at least if the child decided to look up for he had immediately lowered his gaze. Well, he had time. He would not be going anywhere until he had his answer. Minutes passed in complete silence as neither of them spoke.

After a while though, Melpomaen started to get nervous. What did this ellon want with him? He couldn't walk away as that would be extremely impolite and they would surely inform his nanneth. He didn't want to disappoint her, or worse, be banned from the library. But he couldn't stay like that either! The scribe wasn't leaving. Even worse, he could tell his eyes were fixed on him and he was starring so hard that they must have bore a hole through the top of his skull. The situation was downright uncomfortable. Swallowing his fears, he made up his mind and decided to confront the strange ellon. He raised his head slowly and looked at the elf warily, still wondering what had suddenly gone wrong, for in the six months he had spent at the library, no one had ever talked to him.

"I'm fine, thank you," was his polite reply. The scribe flashed him a dazzling smile, as if this short sentence was the most wonderful he had ever heard.

"You are Melpomaen, right?' He waited for the elfling to nod before launching on with their plan. "Lord Erestor ordered us to compile an index of the tales available in this section with a short description of each book, but we haven't read them for so long that we aren't sure of what they contain anymore. Normally, we would have someone read them all again but we have to do the same for the whole library and there simply isn't enough time." He sighted dejectedly. "We really don't want to displease him..."

Aewgail looked down in mock despair. He had seen the shudder at the mention of the chief councilor's name and had to hide a smile. For once the terror the old dragon inspired everyone was coming handy. The little one had witnessed several of the Noldo's fit of anger and they had been sure he would be terrified about him. They counted on it to ensnare him in their plan. Provided he played his part right, Aewgail was convinced it would work.

"If only someone had read those books recently, we could ask for his help..." He mused, pretending to think aloud absentmindedly. He hid his amusement as he saw the interest creep into the shining sapphires, desire to help warring against the shyness. He looked around as though searching for that someone, before settling his eyes on Melpomaen again. "Why, you have read them all, haven't you?" He feigned the sudden revelation. "Would you mind giving us a hand?" He added in his most pleading voice.

Melpomaen was torn. He knew he was more than able to provide the help they wanted and, if he had to read a book or two once more to remember what it was about, all the better. Yet it had been his instinctive reaction to flee for strangers for so long that he could barely restrain himself. What if they expected him to talk? Or if they didn't leave him alone? He had never done such a thing before and the novelty of it scared him. The last time he had tried something new hadn't exactly gone well... Yet his generous heart wouldn't allow him to leave someone in need.

"I'm not sure I can..." His voice trailed of. "I'm not grown up, I can't write as well as you do…"

"Nonsense! Only children read books in this section, and who better than a child to know what would interest them? You'll do perfectly!" Melpomaen blushed at the comment. "Will you help us then?"

"Yes!" He exclaimed, all worries pushed aside.

Aewgail took the elfling to one of the empty work tables, gave him a quill, an ink welt and some parchment, and explained what he wanted. It probably wasn't the most exciting occupation but Melpomaen was so proud to be entrusted with it that he took to the task with heart. The whole story had of course been a lie. No one had asked them to catalogue the works in the children section for no one ever looked for a specific volume there, though they would later argue that they were indeed supposed to maintain an index of all the books available in the library, if only to avoid buying the same one twice. That the children section wasn't concerned by this inventory was a tacit understanding but the elfling didn't need to know that. And the look of utter delight in Melpomaen's eyes as he accepted had been so sweet that this little voluntary misinterpretation of their duties was well worth any remonstrance from their lord.

Thus began his training as a scribe of the household under Aewgail's watchful care, eleven years before the mandatory age. His mentor never regretted taking the elfling under his wing for the work was done well and the descriptions, though not what an adult would have expected of a real summary, were always just and amusing. They would often talk about one or another of the books, slowly drawing the child out of his shell. Soon he became almost as comfortable around his tutor as he was around his foster parents. The sight of the two of them bent together over stacks of parchment was a solace to Gwenfael.

Others joined them from time to time and, though Melpomaen remained shy and reserved in their presence, he learnt to accept their company. They would check his work and praise him highly for his achievements, which never failed to bring a fierce blush to the timid elfling's cheeks. When one of them remembered the tales he had just indexed, they would speak of the places or people who had inspired them. The child listened with rapt attention as the beautiful vales of the Undying Lands sprung to life in his mind and the heroes of the first age battled mythical creatures. His curiosity and eagerness to learn brought one question after another, questioning the blank spaces left in what he knew of their people's history.

Though he liked the stories the scribes told well enough, he missed reading the words himself and often asked if he could be allowed to look at the history books. The scribes of course refused, their heart filled with dread at the thought of their little protégé discovering the terrible truth. The darker deeds of their past were not for the eyes of one so young. They had been very careful to leave out any reference to the horrors of the ages gone from their tales, making sure to not even mention them and sometimes lying to cover facts that were sure to give the elfling nightmares. They couldn't let him learn about them in the dry factual words of chronicles! But Melpomaen's thirst for knowledge was insatiable.

The solution to the scribes' dilemma was handed overt to them by the child himself. One day, frustrated by their endless refusal to let him read books from the adult section, the reason for which he couldn't fathom, he asked:

"If I can't read adult history books, then why aren't there children history books?" His high pitched voice quivered as he balanced on the verge of tears. "It's not fair that there is nothing for us to learn from!"

Aewgail and Limmoth, who had been keeping them company at the time, looked at each other as the same idea crossed their mind. Why indeed shouldn't there be children history books? Children had to learn their history after all and, though some of it couldn't be taught at such a young age, a toned down version would be fine. Hadn't they been telling exactly that? If it could be told, then there was nothing to prevent it from being written! With a smile, Limmoth left the table to talk to the head librarian, while Aewgail soothed the distraught elfling.

If Isthavron was surprised by his assistant's request, he never let it show. He took a few minutes to ponder the question before nodding his assent. He warned Limmoth to be careful however because he could only cover up for him so far and if he was caught, he would be accused of shirking his duties. Word spread like wildfire among the scribes and many decided to help. March was drawing near and with it, Melpomaen's begetting day. They hoped to present him with the finish work as a gift on that occasion. They took to the task with enthusiasm and all was well for a while.

Their quiet routine was broken one morning as the huge ash doors were suddenly flung open with such a force that they hit the walls in a resounding 'bang' that shook the whole room. Everyone jumped and turned toward the entrance to see what had caused the disturbance. The sight that met them left them frozen with shock. Lord Erestor stood in the doorway, lips tight and white faced. His charcoal eyes burnt with a fury that promised instant suffering to the unlucky soul that caught them. He strode toward the main counter, jet black robes and hair flying wildly behind him.

"Where is he?" He bellowed. "Where is that little unworthy pathetic excuse of a scribe?" All cowered as he spun around, looking for the object of his anger.

"May I enquire as to who exactly you are looking for, my lord?" Isthavron strolled closer placidly.

"This little incompetent that dares to call himself my assistant. He didn't finish tidying up the notes of yesterday's council and now it appears that he has run away!"

"I'm afraid I haven't seen Dantôl since you sent him to fetch the Gondorian trade register a week ago. Have you checked his rooms? He might have fallen asleep." The head librarian replied calmly.

"Fallen dead of exhaustion, more likely." The elf seated beside Melpomaen muttered under his breath. Unfortunately for him, the advisor heard him. He was beside him in a flash and laid his hand on the tense shoulder.

"What did you say, young one?" Erestor asked in a bitter sweet tone. Teluivor recoiled as if he had been slapped.

"No… nothing, my lord." He stuttered weakly.

"Really? I must be suffering from hallucinations then… I was certain I heard something about me working my assistant to death. You wouldn't make such an implication now, would you?" The fingers squeezed painfully and the voice took a steely edge.

"Never, my lord." Teluivor was now as white as snow, his words barely above a whisper.

"Good. If it had been the case I would have had to punish you for making such a slanderous claim." The Noldo smiled in a relaxed manner, as if he had just been exchanging pleasantries about the weather and not uttering threats. "Of course," he added as an afterthought, "I'll have to prove you how wrong those assumptions are to make sure you are convinced. Since I find myself in need of a new assistant, I believe you'll make a perfect replacement."

If the poor ellon had been pale before, he now looked downright sick. His skin had taken a greenish hue and sweat began to pearl on his forehead. His breath quickened as the hand that held the fine goose feather started to shake violently.

"Please, my lord, I…"

"You would refuse my offer then? Careful, scribe, I might be offended." The underlying menace was back.

"Of… of course not, my lord." He answered, utterly defeated.

"Good! It's settled then, I'll see you tomorrow in my office half an hour after the breakfast bell. I expect you to be punctual." Erestor's eyes gleamed almost jovially now that he had attained his goal. He straightened and started toward the door.

Melpomaen, who had been cowering behind the taller frame of Teluivor during the entire conversation, praying that his presence would go unnoticed, let out a sigh of relief. The volatile councilor terrified him and he was glad to see him go at last. He was about to return to the summary he had been writing when he saw the elf lord stop halfway to the door. He stood there a few seconds, glinting at something in the far off corner, and then took off in that direction, his features once again contorted in a mask of fury.

"What do you think you are doing?" His powerful voice boomed. "Every week your reports complain that you cannot complete your assignments on time because you are understaffed and that it is urgent that we hire more hands, and I find four of you doodling idly during work hours! This is unspeakable, a blatant disrespect. I'll..."

Someone had apparently interrupted what promised to be an impassionate tirade but Melpomaen was too far to hear.

"And where is this elfling you are talking about?"

The young Sylvan froze in terror. He was the only child in the library at this hour. Why were they talking about him? Had he done something wrong? Four ashen faced ellon emerged from the aisle, leading lord Erestor straight to where he sat. The councilor's body shook with barely restrained anger and Melpomaen shrunk on himself. He tried to hide again behind the taller scribe, hoping against all odds that the Noldo wouldn't notice him, but in vain. His nemesis skidded to a stop behind him and fixed him with those black eyes that could see right through him. He cowered under the piercing gaze, his head lowered as he wrung his hands nervously.

An eternity seemed to pass while he waited for the reprimand that was sure to come. It truly was only a few minutes but, to the frightened child, the nerve-wracking wait felt like forever.

"I hear you have been helping around here, Melpomaen?"

The surprisingly gentle inquiry made him look up. Lord Erestor was standing beside him and observing him attentively. All Melpomaen could do was nod in response.

"May I see what you have been working on?"

The voice was soft, holding none of its usual spite. Mutely, the elfling reached a shaking hand toward his little stack of parchment and pushed it toward the Noldo. Long, elegant fingers took hold of the loose sheet, tilting them slightly so that he could read them more easily. Melpomaen held his breath. The scribes often praise his work, telling him how good it was, but would it be good enough for the intransigent adviser? If not, would he still be allowed to continue? Or would he be accused of wasting the librarians' time and be chased out of his beloved sanctuary? Before long his fear had escalate into a full blown panic and he was a hairbreadth away for dissolving into tears.

"It's a fine job you are doing here, penneth, I'm glad you accepted to help." The tone held none of its usual spite, only reassurance.

"Really?" Melpomaen squealed.

"Really. If you keep it up, I'm sure you'll become the best scribe we ever had."

The four scribes that had been on the receiving end of the dark councilor's ire watched in stunned disbelief as he soothingly patted the child's back and retreated toward his office, completely forgetting about them. It had to be a first. Not only had they escaped what should have been the worse dressing down of their entire life but Erestor, the lord Erestor, had actually praised and tried to comfort someone. If not for the stupefied silence that reigned in the library, they would have believed they had dreamt the entire scene.

After that, they all resumed their previous activities, exchanging nervous whispers about the morning's events. Dantôl finally returned four days later once he was convinced that he had indeed escaped his former master's wrath and returned to his post as a scribe. Weeks flowed by as spring finally settled in the hidden valley. In the quiet sanctuary, time passed swiftly until at last, the long awaited morning arrived.

Melpomaen stood before the entrance of the library with a dazed look on his face. He had been awaken early that morning by a cheerful Gwenfael, who had engulfed him in a crushing hug before presenting him with a breakfast tray made of all his favorite foods. She had talked excitedly while he ate, slowly clearing his mind of the last remnants of sleep. He had barely finished when the plates where whisked away. She had then hurried him to dress and ushered the dumbfounded child out of the door while he was still trying to understand what had happened to his nanneth to turn her into such a whirlwind. Only when they had reached the courtyard of the Last Homely House had her words finally registered. Cuthalion was coming home today, two weeks ahead of schedule, so that they could celebrate his fifteenth birthday together. He would pick him up before lunch and then they would spend the rest of the day together, "partying until dusk", as she had said.

He shook his head and resolutely strode forward, pushing the carved door open.

"Surprise!" came the collective shout.

Melpomaen halted in the doorway, awed by the transformation the familiar place had undergone during the night. Colorful ribbons had been strung between the cases creating a canopy of silk above their heads while the scent of freshly cut roses from the gardens added to the air of festivity. He only had a second however to take all of this in before Aewgail sauntered to his side and dragged him toward the cheering crowd.

"Happy begetting day, Melpomaen." He murmured to his ear.

"Come!" exclaimed Dantôl. "You have to open your presents!"

"Pre… presents?" The elfling stuttered, still in a daze.

"Yes! We made these for you!" The scribes parted to allow him view of four small books propped on a bench.

"Now you can have your very own historical collection." beamed his tutor.

"And we will be making more!" added Limmoth.

While they were all busy showing the overwhelmed elfling the illustrated versions they had made of several of the greatest events in the history of their people, the door behind them opened silently and a dark figure approached. A clearing throat had them all spinning around to see who had ventured in the library so early in the day. They froze at the sight of Elrond's chief councilor looming in the hallway. Dressed in his usual black robes, Lord Erestor was smirking at their dismayed expressions and many groaned inwardly. Why did this bird of ill omen have to come today of all day? He hadn't visited the library since he had last fired his assistant a month ago! He strode forward and they all moved aside to let him pass.

"Happy begetting day, little one." He said in a deep smooth voice as he came to stand before the frightened elfling. "Here," he added,, "this is for you."

Melpomaen looked in awed silence at the heavy leather bound volume resting in his hands. The blue cover was free of any encryption. He opened it in the middle and found himself staring at an exquisite picture of elves dancing in the twilight on the shores of the sea. His fingered caressed the delicate paint, taking in the fine details.

"It's beautiful." He whispered.

"I'm glad you like it, penneth, it will warm its author's heart to know how much it pleases you."

"Who is it?" He asked curiously.

"Who knows?" The Noldo replied, his mouth twisting in a crooked smile. "You'll have to find out yourself. I must head back to my duties now." Melpomaen was speechless as he watched the adviser straighten up before turning away. He caught himself at the last minute.

"Thank you." He stammered, staring with huge disbelieving eyes at the joyous face of the usually stern councilor. Erestor nodded simply before gliding out of the room, leaving in his wake a score of thunderstruck librarians. The door had barely clanged shut when he eagerly leafed back to the first page. There stood written in an elegant script "Tales of the stars, by Erestor".

"Well, penneth," Isthavron chuckled, "it seems you have successfully tamed the dragon."

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><p><strong>Elvish translations:<strong>

_Elfling - elf child  
>Nanneth - mother<br>Ellon - male elf  
>Penneth - young one<em>

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><p><em>Please, review! (big puppy eyes)<em>


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